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back to poetry or back home

skeleton wings pressed against the night

expaonding in the ribcage

scrambling to fly- to leave the earth

desperate heaving

lungs burning from hot life

from sunrises

eyes open to the beams of air

open,

open,

open to stars, open to orion's belt

October is coming

an angle's dream

a night's flight

an eternity of thinking,

of loving,

of feeling as much weight of my feet

as the lightness of my own head