you walking monkeys over there
are not so far from bears as you would like to believe
nor am i, poor hairless chimp
now is the time to climb into our caves, candles,
little little
fires burning
the yearning, to be wrapped in furs and
frus of God and press our ears to the furry chest of the mother
there is a reason the son of man was was born in a cave
a cave like tomb
a cave like a tomb
a cave like the cavern where bruins brood
because, because he knew Brigid was there
her air is just another word for fire
and retiring is just another word for rebirth
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