the landscape far below me now
the brightest things are swimming pools
far over all these earthly woes
and pale concerns of early hours

to meditate upon the fact
that much of where we’re desperate
is quite pathetic in the sense
that real and image are mismatched

for how we love within our minds
to make what our wills cannot forge
to be what we will not work for
and leave our verses dull and blank

like she who fills my very thoughts
who would not know and cannot know
that every waking day and breath
of sheer imagined me is rife

for her and lavender balloons
way out past hope beside the stairs
where only all of this protects
and old man’s dreams from obloquy

let life fill up with idleness,
let dreams be filled with only air;
i’m floating, for i have no home,
but tortured thoughts all day
and night

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