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Jan 26
Electric rips of ether, electric eithers spreading fathers of featureless air.
I'm not a backward brother, not a fallen intelligent mother. Not a dream speaker of an other, or an otter, paddling the current of a smoker. I am not a dissonant freak, with ears that peak through a veiled talker in the center of my breeze.

I am a Human being.

Electric coronal blotted ego, spread across a lamented dimensionfull Ether. Spirit of the earth ling, child ling, child hood - emasculated - with the muscles of neither bronchial clearing nor chest's breathing in fear. Clearing the sound of a speaker, I'm a single monadic breather, breathing for feelers in the healing vibration of a sparked be-ing.

I am being concentrated, content with the illusions I magistrate in empathetic sound bites of foreign homes I sound right in. My old futile following is my governing responsibility, aisle of a lost ark holding up a souled spark for the presence of a real breathing continuity in the summer in the summer, golden guilded memory, I was home.

170 Thornhill
Paul NP
Written by
Paul NP  Toronto
   BR Dragos
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