patrick wakefield · Oct 19, 2011
becoming trees

becoming trees even became oceans of leaves beneath me sprawling valleys, to lips of them, i soar
on diminutive dreams. i slide right through air like lightening even(trains never went like that)
so fast over earth and faces up turned, agape, each mouth terribly yowling until splendor nearly
fills those voids and gods don't even do that,

 
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