The Ceiling Becomes a Marble Slab

7 December 2004

Some people's dreams are vast
enough to build houses on.
I am always falling.
The lift cable snaps again
as if the other dreams
were the premonitions
of this one.
In the morning
I am always stalling,
not wanting to rise up
to a life always over my head,
the sto ste sto ste of poetry
bubbles I send up, a buoyancy
I give up to stay fast.

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