I see you
I see you in I umbra of shadowswith scrapings of hurrying crabs in tides
baring all in between in a singular why
the shaman lived in a rundown penthouse
high above the São Paulo bustle
with his free base and binoculars
the last prism is a broken solitude
a paradigm a gasp for contact
where bets no longer is a young body
create me dive me sleep me
there are no concessions left
to run tomorrow's carry on
but there are meetings above ground
in abandoned non light houses
with brooms on the run to Bogota
sleep me in domes of darkness
drive me down a last good night
soon all will be I am not
Poetry by Bob
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Written on 2015-08-01 at 02:32
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Jamsbo Rockda |
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by Bob Latest textsI seldom walkthere’s a rumor there will be no full stop so many regrets who am I |
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