61
flying
(maybe home)
in
the nowhere
of
not there
here
you are now
through
frozen sky
this
moment
top
of a ladder
stars
are touching
you
wish to be there
I
have a country lane
shedful
in mind
little
lapses take me
by
the pillow
a
whoosh on the way
can't
hear yourself think
(flying
is tinnitus' ultimate cure)
through
this intimate contortion
sit
with random almost-musings
how
travel flattens the hair
though
this is not something 'they say'
thrombosis
is a topic now
no
death wish
but
simply to rest in peace
you'd
like to be a stray leaf flutter
settling
for the earth
in
the end
they
open the tin
for
the leap-up
and
the overhead scramble
uncomfortable
lean
where
heads won't fit
and
you are swollen from it
shoes
show
as
if you'd blown up
when
you blew away
all
of which goes to show
we're
all made of cloud
I like this a lot.
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