When even in the daytime
things were stomach-stinging
eye-stinging good
we take a primal kind of
necessary sadness with us.
The same,
we find solemnity in religion
like we look for answers.
We find reality solemn?
We find dreams solemn!
What poison-seek-poison thread are we sewn from?

I tried fourteen hundred times
to chip out this vignette I had
made of fogged people who themselves were
more meaning than being.
That maybe if I essentialized the world
I could sift down into the uncut full view
of me
But without the world you are nothing.
The sad and the sting and the wise
are the skin and the love in life.
If you participate in the world,
you are hurting.
That’s what it is now, you’re


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