We shall travel in and do all these worlds

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In the head like a kick gods who bit white ophelia floating;
in hideous love-making jostle together protractedly;
like dragonflies threading! for more than a thousand years!

The evening shadows pulling faces one-armed friend.
- with a cloak of ignorance, who grin at the sky.
Has murmured its ballad on the delighted earth.
- dreamy eye towards through this horror of space.

We shall travel in, and do all these worlds
snow of rose petals and the horizon rushes
on their pale vertebrae: but endless;

Nailing them naked to the colored, in the long violet coagulations,
of sour apples pale-eyed realize in antique dramas
backwards into sleep, devoured by vermin
"Is", "is." "is" — the idiocy of the word haunts me. If it were abolished, human thought might begin to make sense. I don't know what anything "is"; I only know how it seems to me at this moment. -Robert Anton Wilson




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Wow, your imagery in here is beautifully intense. It's very loaded, perhaps overly so. I think that makes it a bit hard to follow at times, maybe it would be a stronger piece if your ideas had room to breathe. Still, it's an amazing poem, and it really gripped me. Good work.
purple sneakers



I'm not so good with the advice... Can I interest you in a sarcastic comment?
— Chandler Bing