I’d be a betrayed Wizard of Oz (spilling the beans) behind an already-ripped curtain or a see-through veil, tremors in both eyes, smiling on the Jumbotron (the gold standard).
Stars on a staircase.
Meteors on a doorframe.
Stars on a staircase.
Meteors on a doorframe.
The universe in my waking eye, aureole aura or an air of.
Jagged are the edges of all fields of perception. Eliquation: only maps are aware of visible borders. Draw a line here, a line there. Where is the unreachable finger?
In my ears, animals jeer from tree-tops. A piece of bark has been ripped from a portion of this pine tree: a mustard-colored wetness. Trigger-happy, like a berserk masseuse, I touch the open edifice.
On my side of the tunnel (where I want you to be) my equilibrium is at the brim & a face appears within it while everyone sleeps. While everyone sleeps, the sun’s infallible speech-horn is enough to blow the covers off of the big-toes of old folks & youthful tottles, high-schoolers & their sad babyfat faces.
This dawn, like every dawn, the sun rose from out of my spirit like something that hums above your home.
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