There Is
The rapid transit of us into us
there is a word for it :
The trees are :
They point their tiny fists of spring
they have opened their fingers have gone yellow
then turn toward chlorophyll :
If it goes quick then let that go
the word is is :
Pose the mannequin like it is a painter
staring into a mirror
painting a self-portrait :
Trumpets blare and they are only car horns :
The public transport of us engages the turn lane
there is a word that is is and is not :
We are searching for prose like Gershwin
that conveys a man carrying packages on a busy Thursday
on a Manhattan street :
Dropping seeds like ribbons :
Windsocks popping brass :
Is not the word also rapid in its sphere :
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