after the
work
at the soap
factory,
they washed
my brains
but they
didn’t iron
so here I
think again
so the thinking
machine comes to shrink
your skull,
but they
didn’t think
that it grew
back
I’m
laughing on the rolling floor about it
our sun
goes down on it
I hover my
life on it
I follow
the process
from the
rear window
of her home
town traffic
on my map
to get some
poems you should walk
alltheway
through madness and back:
come away
from the crowds from the stations
where the
elephants elbow
through the
bottoms and up
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