poem
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Outside the Toronto Art Gallery
“Mysticism isn’t my thing and I pay very little attention to it.”—a Gentleman near “The Vision of Ezekiel”
I saw the spirit of William Blake today while on my way to his big show
shining throughblack furred as the black bear was this creature poised at the gate
the black eyes
of a saucy squirrel
tiny animal handhe looked me long in the eye
articulated
against
the stone wall
the Sun
focused
there
a moment passed
then off he dashed
to terrorize
just for fun
a flock
of complacent
birds
into the sky
they rose
as one