21 sept. 2009


It happened maybe as I crossed the mud
Or when I saw that building blurry in the fog
My building blossoms in the bluish morning
Every morning
Welcoming me in...
Big wheel keeps spinning round the same way
But down the hill -swift- changing scenery.
I can't seem to hold on to anything.
Much less myself pulling grass blades
Or else flying through space and the age
Or falling asleep in a classroom
With big windows and small friendly face
And books that smell of too much bar code
Books that travel and grow m old
But I think it all happened as I
Crossed the puddle
The realizing
The tragic uprising
Of awe, tears,
And a nervous twitch of the stomach
That I'm not going anywhere soon
And my life is large and larger.

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