Say that moving green bins around
your thoughts all day would beat teaching
where anxiety crystallised
stops thinking. What a sad day when

passing around beads of thinking
has become a chore, and plastic
overflows in hot classrooms, floats
in great islands above the schools.

There is nothing more frightening than
a realist. Who sees everything
as nothing. Only slightly more
safe are idealists, those who live

with their deep dreams as everything
and nothing. There is more and less
to the world than a lone standpoint.
The grains of wheat crushed in a mill

second my opinion. Combine these,
and you have a tenable place
to think. But really, thinking is
only half the game. Turn the page,

and read the next line, hear the slip
of fibre on fibre, remain calm, and pray.
Revolutions in our ideals
happen each morning over toast

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