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Where I’ll be
going
Where I’ll be going
This afternoon
After visiting my tired old father
And my mother,
searching on television
Her youngish lost dreams?
Where will I go?
Where will I go
If my fate
Coerces me here
Where struggle is harder
Against prejudice
Against habitude
Against the foresaid?
My body suffers
From constraint continence
‘cause I don’t Know the way
To astral projection
For escaping the world.
So I can’t get
any stuff
To keep me on
And got no place
To go to
This afternoon
And I might be writing somewhere:
“When I’ll be going?”
In Sardinia 1985
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