Things are thought of, then they’re done.
“Please bring my suitcases upstairs.” All the way up, to the roof, to the ozone Layer, up to the celestial bears, Take up my portmanteau, take up my satchel And my messenger bag, it sure is light Up here, and I see you have a big Salon, and every neophyte, Every star born in gas, Finds electrons spinning, finds That even shreds of light loop In the corona, and our minds Leap and sizzle light. “You can Carry all of my things in that overnight Bag.” After all, we do The best we can, isn’t that right?
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Yaacov David Shulman
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October 2019
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