I heard the scream,
So through walls I fell,
A sidewinder of dream:
The swimming bells.
I serenaded stone-white-noise and other idiots,
Where bricks grow.
I love leaning on rain:
Still life on bursting sky:
In every cloud hangs the bath.
Can we parachute from clouds?
Can clouds?
I'll tip my tethered cloud over this one:
A silvery stream liner for dreaming on:
A slidden slumber chandelier,
A wonderful plumping floss flamingo.
Am I insured for domestic cloud explosions?
So as I lay myself down on my raindrop eiderdown,
The monsoon trenches are triggered.
Too late now.
From my concrete floor carnations bloom.
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