This Text file is old! In a 🏛️Museum, an unsorted archive of (user-)pages. (Saved from Geocities in Oct-2009. The archival story: oocities.org)
--------------------------------------- (To 🚫report any bad content: archivehelp @ gmail.com)

from the precipice i can only fall
up, out of the fish that beats 
the ground for dryness.
the climb upon the shoulders of
this giant turtle left atlas inured, but
i never waved to the perfidious griffins,
my hands lifting the feather of
i.
beyond the distance that passes through
man, i invoke 
the name of silence and 
lean my hand on your breast,
afraid to 
lean my hand on your breast.

3.1.99