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someone has touched the moonTo Britta Kallevang's previous piece

i am the sun and the cause
of the origin of trees
in the shade and on fire
i am catching a breeze
catching on to the mysticism
of this mainstream event
the building is bricks
mashed with force to face
each other forced to make men
mountains when they're fowl
down-cast, men make me laugh
they don't know what they have
fire makes me want to see it
so i see the lighter side
i was always confused and uncertain
about pulverizing almonds
i mean with each crush a full
amount of babble would backfire into my
groin.  i grew weary
so shoo me away
this is my reality and a
place to sit, the sun, my shadow,
a glass of water, a pair of
unusable mittens, a cell phone
that cannot drink and a backpack
carrying beyond books, an incredible stench
of winter exhaust, salt, sand and runny
no wonder we all have
blocked brains and
fired inspirations
i am fatalistic
aren't most heavenly bodies?

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