Speaking of railway signs
of worldwide
Lonely planets...
A small boy picks up Mexico...
We are all waiting
for a name to be called
and I sit here...
The drama this: I thought I knew something.
a Faint language, alien to what is known...
The lines run my palm,
a red hand... endtrails.
This loud lonely planet
Hides...
A circular ring...
A hole...
An eye...
A Zero...
A nothing...
An infinite line...
A continuity...
Curiosity...
I don't understand these things
and it feels as though it's on the
very tip of my childish tongue.
A castle on the Rhine
and somewhere Germany calls...
This here is dream language...
the one that I know and get lost in
like quicksand and dry fog
which has clarity to the taste...
Of accepting things I can't explain...
Loudness causes communication problems...
crisp sound right now...
crisp sound right now..
and then you crawl out of my skin
and awaken fibers which stand
On the edge of enlightening rods...
Supporting the structure of my dead weight
upon a seat in a big box
and I'm back here again...
What lightening electric shoots
out my thumb
my palm
this window
and song...
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