Sound to reed,
waves through a wonder of chiaroscuro

in a mangrove a musician goes duckhunting

specious to the angry mallard
foot aspurred and a violent fuck

on closing in to an open throat of night security

do you have my number? the oboist shuffles

through their oh so kitschy rolodex
"where was their name again
Al, Alex, Alan, Allan, Alen, Alen, Alen, and Allen"



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