POTPOURRI AND OTHER RANK ESOTERICA

Duck

      DUCK


I feel like a bundle of thoughts, of ideas and memes, hiding in a man's skin.  A body of work, waiting to be born, as the man I thought I was is born aloft on the breezy sighs and breathy gasps of time.  My stuffed skin floats like a balloon into the cold upper atmosphere.  Lightning rips through my balloon skin, and the clouds.  The quiddity of my ideas rain down in quotidian drops.