bike crushed by wheel the boy projected and he flew in 1978
dreamt flying in the winded silence briefly died
bounced off tarmac 15 feet from launch raised up on haunch and knee and would have stood
I’ve said that boasting about mortality
now I write it is written
my living upshot
from about as far away from the end as the boy was from the beginning in 1978
every day since I’ve dreamt alive I’m dying
happy remembering dreams and not remembering happy dreams
I can do it awake as well as sleeping plain material
always awake as awake
missed stair crunch every night for as many years
humming in a clearing of consciousness the boy hears you
commons at the start or end of your dream I do but love alive
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