Sunday, August 16, 2015

7036. MY CARAPACE IS MY VIMANA

MY CARAPACE IS MY VIMANA
I'm dying to get out, to break away, to lose 
this frightful, human coil. Oh, you bet then 
too. Not that I wish to go away to somewhere 
else, I just want to see the other side of things; 
like where does that smoke go, or how does 
the light just disappear? And to where? I want 
my giant steps to cross over the fabric-land 
I walk upon. I can fly, like a dream in old man's
cape, like the love note pressed between 
the breasts of some wonderful woman.

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