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A Being Bean

A caffeine tea dream:
I am climbing upward the spine-to-rib bridge.
My back hurts to make itself a new me.
I climb up my back and I grab my hair
pull back,
break back.
A dead me on the ground, I cross over my back
and leap to my crown, remove.
Touch my brain, a fire ignites,
I flip a match on my boot and remove my shoes.
Soft gal hair from the holes in my skull
soft gal skin on the long of the nose.
soft gal lips like a duck, quack quack.
Funeral for me in the backyard garden.
Beneath the Earwig Tunnel Bridge and
the famous pillbug ranch.
The fireflies are crawling over my hands.
They float glowing golden boats
along my  stagnant blood roads.
Tonight I came for a bookly king,
if tonight was ten years ago.
Here he arrives with a book by his side
and a frozen note in a snow envelope.
Say his eyes, come here. Say his hands, I want to know you.
I prayed  to the oven god and it wrote no reply.
I lay the white king in the dirt and slew him.
11:11 pm, tuesday, august 5 2008
immediately after work, mind games all day

5 Aug 08

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is 11:11pm of any significance? did you begin writing your poem at this moment in time or did you finish it?
 — raskolniikov

it is 7:40 am. i am now hitting and slapping myself awake.

i finished it at that time
 — OKcomputer