Psalm
By
the side of seat
ripped out
from
womb of ancient
Fiat Seicento
above
entrance of shriveled capillaries
he borrowed me a smile
I'm drifting
along the smile
down the smile
through the smile
I'm driving in
between
light scattered planktons
in front of
the wall
porcelain rose in the path of cotton
against glass
has leaned the sight
does God have a face?
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