its US that are impossible
with
plastic machines for hair
and
padded cement cocoons
with
lightning locked into decorated walls
built
where
old trees
used to bend
over
cool green pools
its US that are impossible
with
all our pockets
always loaded
with
touchable electric glass
its US that are impossible
not
the
regenerating stars undying in the sea
regenerating stars undying in the sea
or
the
quiet octopus professor
doing
his
his
secret calculus with the coral
but
US
and
our
our
pre-fab pods that dart like tadpoles
coughing ancient-bone incense
over
bystanding and amputated forest
we've
walled
in
with
great
hoardings of colouful disingenous lies
hoardings of colouful disingenous lies
we ARE impossible
when
we
claim to own rain
an
air-cooled silicone frame
when
really
it
falls
when it likes
tickling our mad rubber clothes
as
we
run
to impossibly hide
in
linoleum dry
from threesixfivetwoforty.com
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