spelunking gets ya there
no
where
through metaphor
of ceiling &
walls gone
natural
though
no place
really
to
go
form of some sort
elastic
what we find ourselves in
always
the
edge
the end of
metaphor
rock hard
more like balloons
pushing & pulling
in &
outside
interpen-
etrating
but plastic
suffocates &
form we slip
move
wall up the side
thinking it all
merely our thing
until something goes
awry or
someone calls
attention
this poem stopped
being
what
it used
to
be
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