ghost on the brink

The best creatures choose to live fragmentary lives in novels and dreams
To crawl across pixelated ceilings on an average day
Impossible for a cumbersome ghost on the brink of a greasy fork
Meanwhile all my shoes are afraid of the sky
All my money abhors shopping malls
I believe the scars of the air dissolve
Into trees and torn soccer balls and angel’s wings for breakfast
Antediluvian birds dance around a dying dandelion
Asking each other how many days their stomachs could hold

 

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