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       my life as the teacher not listened to
       as the child of unfortunate collateral
                damage
I need to shed
I need to let the skin collapse
       and dry and roll about the ground

       I need to breathe
the fresh air again through

                any open window

       to have clear moon through the branches
       and antennae again even while I remain
                unheard and damaged

by breathing
       while I look at the back of the chair
       for the first time
                by breathing while I quietly rage with revenge
                by breathing when I don’t know what to do with myself
                by breathing when I do something to the very limit of my skin
                      to assert a self to offer
                by breathing when I am gracefully overlooked
                by breathing when my self cannot be found

the moon just perched
on top of the lamp post
       ridiculously but inexorably
as travelling planets
                while I wrote this

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

breathing wormhole: mild darshan
divorce wormhole: divorce
lamp-post wormhole: the silent night / of the Batman
sitting & space & talking to myself wormhole: Stay with that.
trees wormhole: 1968
windows wormhole: looking for Lester
writing wormhole: siting and writting