he stood
shroud like
on his
canes
squinted
never lost his
miraculous egg
also found
these sights
were limits
fog, really, like
alostratus
he hoped
he would
leap out
touching
dirt, fresh
plants
as one.
*Found poem, from one vertical inch of page 41, “Toy Story,” in Faber, Michel. Some Rain Must Fall, San Diego: Harcourt, 2000. Print.
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