underboy whites small

dive down
the ruins of kouros,
how do we run
flee with
dork rimbauds; instant rainbows.

reverie, that old slang grope
down memory;
like land made from
clouds; i float in

inside this anthropo-goo
here’s a postcard from marimba,
some soul
long ago,
and, comets grow in comic books,
where nothing’s ever meant to be

until it looks a lot like you.

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