lunchrhyme - 9.20


Every day to go out
and join the nameless mass
,the collective Everyman,
His gray and drooping face
to swallow whole
who dare dissent.
It is a dreamless sleep.
But to be born new
each night at five
is the hope
who've slept since 9 all know.

Oh, to live as Spring,
triumphant in the face of
and Death.
To suddenly become quite tall.

Q:What's in your head?
(She asked politely)
A: The breasts of that girl
the lips of another-
but what's behind those things?
I know Big Brother will know.
No? Well

. I think, too,
that Chopin and I
would surely have been fast friends.

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