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the past lifts: the burning aches flow ashen: the
heavy waters fog out of the valleys, & trim

the mountain heights: high winds strike the
heights free of my pangs, become swirls you can

see through, too sheer for mares’ tails: but
how much is that mockery in the window: why,

it’s my reflection, swimmy, ghostly, wavery, oh
I’m just an old fool in a gilded cage: so, I

go on, and my image flies out of there, not for
sale: as it will fly away someday, without

price: what a joke it was: and is: I took
the planet seriously: can you imagine: I

hear giggles along the outer limbs of the
galaxies and belly laughs in the cores: I

made plans, set goals, to make myself last in
something lasting: you can expect a gullywasher

to take failure away, but I succeeded well
enough in a way, and now I am here by the

going-away and my dizzy little arrogances turn
in an overwash to mud: hark: it is written:

better laugh a little yourself, so you join
the universal chorus: get with it: be

there with the high ride: so, now, am I to
take laughter seriously, or am I to laugh at

laughter: but I didn’t set the goals for the
goals: no, I set the goals when not for myself

for you or all of us: only in the very last
instant will you be undone in me, for you are

a carbuncled cask, its chain locks encrusted &
salt-sealed on the bottom of the deepest lagoon:

well, I don’t know about that: will the worms
send us back to the chef: will we be too rare

or too tough or overdone or sauceless: I
think not: I think we will be acceptable:

anyhow,

LET’S NOT SPOIL THE TRUTH

WITH BEAUTY

HERE, OKAY