…
To leave one’s common state, one’s familiar /
Destiny and a shimmering blue mask, /
Forgotten and thrown into a frozen /
Thrownness, the mysticism of, again, /
Beginning again, following rises /
And origins and copious deserts— /
No guide books, no existential mapping, /
No primitive child with candle, leading /
You to God knows where, beneath the chair : a /
Rotting photograph, a death blur chanting.
…
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