I look at the swaling sunset

 I look at the swaling sunset 
And wish I could go also 
Through the red doors beyond the black-purple bar.


I wish that I could go 
Through the red doors where I could put off
My shame like shoes in the porch, 
My pain like garments, 
And leave my flesh discarded lying 
Like luggage of some departed traveller
Gone one knows not where.


Then I would turn round, 
And seeing my cast-off body lying like lumber,
I would laugh with joy.

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