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6.v.23
2.126
what I really think about tattoos
notes for various poems
everyone is
becoming a cloud
get the
drift?
it’s as in a
dream you must build to be here
then
stepping up
(a kind of
propulsion)
cloud of
your own words is all
though the
best way to the sky
will always
be a tree
a tree need
never know where it’s going
the question
doesn’t arise
it’s really
about what you’ll allow
set out to
full extent
as star
neighbouring
bruised meat
on a butcher’s hook
in a cloud’s
own words
these set
out signs
for skies to
come
it’s the old
trick –
murder the
gods of your father
before you’re
eaten alive
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