Born in 1984

Belated e-card black balloons
Sacrifrice I am not a magician
Tranquil tropical region
Don’t ask foolish questions

And so must depart every word
On my ass long story short
In opera beauty of the void
Half moon and all that

Into the room mythical
Crystal concrete experience
Daydreaming voice is musical
Vowels and consonants

Double lights a conga line
Private party of mine

(‘Born in 1984’ is the final poem in my First Collection.

Everything after this point is The Second Collection)


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