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                I’ve fallen into a whirlpool
                created by an oil-dark tornado
                whiplashed through the haemoglobin sky

                I will spread my cape
                and throw my arms wide
                reaching allwhere with still fingers
                my utility belt is useless
                I need to think deeply in my cowl
                that the ears stick up to no avail

                                of course
                that’s the answer, it’s easy when you know how
                my eyes look downwards
                                and I travel down through the whirl
                                and remember to hold my breath


originally published in the Poetry Jar 310513; with thanks to Bruce Ruston




attention wormhole: day off
Batman wormhole: Bat-Shadow
breathing wormhole: oh-pen too
identity & letting go & red & thinking wormhole: I could step / more open
sky wormhole: oh-pen