Thickets
High up
Far away and flying now
Suspended by the finest rope
And a truckload, a barrier reef
A world-sized sack of hope
Gossamer threads we weave
To decorate a life
To achieve a semblance of fact;
I did this, I am that
I was this, I had that
A galaxy of riddles, a mountain of tat
A million silent stories
We gather and hoard
And board ourselves in with
Thin logic, fat ambition
Cold across the marsh
The marching frost, the feverish dusk
And a promise in your air
'we'll be flying, on'
And we will, in those quiet songs
Of unknown length and night
I'd beg to gain a tenth
Of your gravity
your height
We could say: we were this,
We had that
Or, better still
We are this, we are that
High, far away and flying now
Thin the air
And beneath us,
Between seams of cloud
And fathomless air
A field of glass shards
And a thief that
Steals our dreams
Even as he reads our cards
We were this, we did that
We were this, we did that
2/3, one dinged simmons, bruised hand, grazed ass, missed appointments, barefaced lies, sets on the horizon out from my grandma's beach hut, for sale sign on the bluff from a folding tunnel where no tunnel should be, screaming rainstorm painting the brown sea white, time passing, passing time. Rare waves of home...
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