cross a rickety bridge

after long sickness, cruise out slowly. appreciate the world scape that with head held up, able and wise, wiser. in my friendly evenings have returned to Neil Gaiman’s Sandman comics and horizons expand. I’ve big hopes for now and for later, writing poems, collecting stories from dreams and moving around a bit. march, month of my birth three decades back, the worlds and hard knox, experienced my third eye opening at an early age. headaches accompany. I gain the whole world upon inhalation, exhale the universe, at least a library w/ fines for books over due. cross a rickety bridge and make sure you don’t choke on your food, spit it out on the window. the book is out. the gods are angry. at me? at me? she said my God is strong. some gods are lovely.

words weave
it’s almost hard
not to
rhyme any more
I agree
I will not be
another white
boy who uses
the word nigga
I have too
much respect
and this would
make things
this is not
a petition
it is
I’ve left
I’ve left

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