Limbo, and the flaking chalk of boundary
To step, to move, beyond the glass…

(And falter, yes I see the smokescreen lilac)

I know the air will strip me of reality
Or is the seesaw in a storm, a fuller sense of me?

Old friends, the rusty chrome, and the cloth to drive the breeze
The staircase and its stories for a rainy contemplation

I feel the axis spin, spin until the edge is closer to my pulse

Outside, and outside in, the dwell…
Tulips bold in brevity, circling a world, shy of all its sentiments

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