Hey fellows and fellowettes, I have brought you another offering of a late night feast of words. I am right now listening to the 2001: A Space Odyssey soundtrack and am tripping into the realms of a higher dimension. Would you like to visit? Well read this here poem my fellow headtrippers, and fear not the shadow of your own demise. We are bright drinking cosmic bunglers.
untitled 4646
I have yet begun
to collapse
into
a field of empty butterfly
cocoons
and tell
and
tell
the great women of the past
who have
died in their lipstick
and their
great
barrels of age
that I am for them
entirely
and without
the magnificence of an inverted star
vomiting itself across
the cosmos
and just cause you guys are the tops:
untitled 4645
to be a human
being
is to make love
across
an ocean
and dieing in
empty carports
while
airplanes
jet in the
sky
above
you danced
about
the way of rice paper upon
your tongue
and
a kiss
and
an inverted sword balanced upon your palm
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