I am screaming inside the wind tunnel
My fear a step before me always
I slide away down the aileron
I think I’ve eluded it but it’s there
Suddenly the diameter about me shrinks
I’m as stuck and clogged as I’m inside-out
Flapping rapidly a flag on a pole
I relish the maniacal cold tornado forming
Concentric debris pellets my froth
I am squeezed to projectile blessed to be carbon

Chagall 2015

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