close in the blankness of mid
day the sirens wail down upon the sorry
ears of my foot joints, suddenly
realizing all of me is joints, nothing
solid or so seeming to be that it is
rigid or piecemeal or fishmeal or real at all,
but all the same, it is not as hot as it is insane
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life liberty and the american way
all contents subject to copyright by me, of me, for me.
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