Collision

by August 2, 2019 0 comments

A flight for a special agendum
is convened. The sky is cut
into two pieces through referendum.

Molecules
of the electorate
are superfluously organic.

“I am” is diagonally refracted
through the thick glass of being
and falls on the green algae

buffered,

collisions neither sink nor swim.

Here I feel,
“I am alone in this white street lined with gardens.”

editors note:

Existential dodge ball, “I am” or not. – mh clay

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