Who wakewalks through
Vision quests and the
Collective unconscious of
The diasporic church,
And
Who with infant hands and
Stained lips,
With war song lullabies and
Bile jealous piss,
Who dreams with the bath water and
Plants dead trees in
Fields.
Who lives in your mouth.
Who never learns.
I've been sleeping in circles again.
I'm living my days in a cardboard box.
This is the universe.
...
What am I looking for?
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