This Simple Mental Trick Can Slow Down Time.

He’s a hairy green man who lives in a dustbin.
If I were to,
Leap out, one supple explosive spring, burst the bonds and break beyond THE FRAME
What would I find?
Surprise! Caught in the Act! THE GUILTY FURTIVE FACES in grubby white lab coats, look back over shoulder, hands hurriedly conceal what hands were holding
Too late! I’ve seen enough!
Sunburst! Through cracked cloud, cumulus, with gilt edge,
shiply, stately, sailing, the big builded cloud, in sheer azure
It’s my purlieu it’s my purview it’s my flappy fluting curlew
Splashing wader, littoral minded, speckled tawny friend
We abstract energy from the solar-world grid,
Pecking fastidiously at shrimp, shellfish, tiny marine worms
Bill precisely calibrated for

Total energy remains constant. Times never Passes.
PHANTASMAGORIA. In theory, one should never grow bored.
A ticklish subject. I padded back and forth across the carpeted interior
Counting and qualifying blessings, comparing my lot
To his lot and his lot and his lot
And feeling
A yawning, desperate ache.

We’ve never sung from joy
It’s more what you might call
A mating cry

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