My earth was bare and open to all
I swept myself wide and inhaled
the breathing of the long willow wisps
waving hello to the swathe.
My horizon was long and luxuriously so

with nothing to hinder the wide smiling world
upon which draped my earth room legs
until the gaze of the coming dawn.
Here was a palace, a magician’s parlor
a restful place for the resting traveler.

Oh look!
up top–life sits up.
Sharp lined shadows
on a whipped up sky
a humanoid thing
a devoid of spice thing
a tract of wasteless
wantless fact that curls
right smack on the skin
of that cheek.

I’ve gotta room up top
that squirts at me
each time I come to rest–
get outta here! go on! get!
it jabs at me
between both eyes
and nearly, so nearly
becoming blind
I stumble back
and sink to the ground—

the earth, my earth, my earth room legs
which once more draped along the coming dawn,
which gazed soft as I bowed my head and
allowed my eyelids to sweep themselves
like little envelopes, folding at the corners.

The reader adds his or her own meaning to a poem–here is mine:

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