11th Sunday after Pentecost

11th Sunday after Pentecost

My plans are to learn
to speak in tongues
to hang every out breath
on the thread of love.

I eat only black bread
spread with radishes and salt.

I remove my shoes
at every sacred place
each street
a landscape of dreams.

I execute
a thousand
spinal circles.

My head throbs
from the weight
of Newton's gravity
but the shadow
of the holy ghost
lifts my senses
to heaven.


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