Panorama’s Box

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We’ll call it a tank party!

In such quarters,

we plant & water with the words of Me,


to sing of our inevitable horizons,

thus sprouting forth into a land of liberty!

I may turn, to turn, to move,

& end up in 360°,

The collective act of actions,

reveals truth in actuality.

Falling into focus,

we wake up by name,

which makes waiting at the Great Golgi Gate,

never again quite the same!

To be packaged & heard,

like a true metaphor,

to pick up your stuff & march right out that door.

To hear it is of one,

but then to listen to the other,

To feel & to smell the sweet orange

of another.

Another day,

Another voice heard,

It was you,

but it was me,

& you were swimming like a bird.

It was as if you could leave,

but always come back,

or remain in two places,

I am still confused by that.

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