dreamed 2008/9/1 by Wayan.
Low rust-hills of a marshy world.
No people I can see. Like we
saw dolphins, Africans, women! The
people men don't see could fill a globe.
Earthlings buildStumble on a secret! Frosted deep in
the Civic Fridge I find a time-
bottle that wombs the moment when
a saboteur set off a Bomb.
Here, heft the egg of slow-glass:
"Why carry it? Can't you just
The Mayor, a solemn woman, says
And even if we detonated deep
True. Concerned for people and town,
For all this world's unpeople
My task has groan! I long to be
freed from chains of poetry
rash-oathed. Oh, I enjoy
being Terra's sleep-envoy
tramping the velvet void alone.
Hobo jobs on flickering stars,
collecting solitudes and scars,
illiterate to the bone.
Swore like a fool to write the dream
flood now bloated muddy brown,
jostling drowned cows, dead men.
Down the poems come!
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