I miss every clue/in a few discoveries./I muse over it, weightless./I pay my soul credit/for entering angry eras./I spend more time than most/in squalor that’s immediate./You were my hammer,/you put a crimp in my frame./As generals and soothsayers/recite their off brand gospel/you get to know me, before/I watch you from the window.
I’m Finished
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