That baby in
the crib's a bald-headed
yogin...bundled and concept less.
Freer than spacial fatigue--till bound
by bond, driven mad by the
solidified partition of the world,
weeping for words.
A carousel of canaries become
a yellow equator, to the baby's
Raphealesque head-disc.
Feb 8, 2017
Feb 8, 2017 at 5:49 PM UTC
That baby in
the crib's a bald-headed
yogin...bundled and concept less.
Freer than spacial fatigue--till bound
by bond, driven mad by the
solidified partition of the world,
weeping for words.
A carousel of canaries become
a yellow equator, to the baby's
Raphealesque head-disc.
