how can i not hold
in my own turbulence
a wave of upset something, but nothing arrives
to beginnings but ends
and bits of this and that and everything
in between you and i.
corrupted curdle of exuberant flame
upside-inside, out and downward
spiraling out from left to right and back again
sparkle something, but nothing gained in terms
of visions of light or such things
blessed be my heart to me,
it stings with pride at the thought
of something inside
which it is not
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