Sunday, May 26, 2013

Go See

Flub within view
of The Master. Cloaked
in provencial silk
secured to a boney frame
with safety pins and duct tape.
Watch your grammar
fall to pieces. Watch the slim glow
grow dim. Eat from the hand of a monkey.
Shield your eyes with the skin of a deer.
Bump into people just to feel part
of something solid and real.
Let the sky stay where it is.
Blasting through space, multiplying
years, adding, subtracting, standing
in the upright position just long enough
to get clipped and blotted.

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