These are
times without grammar
when Life is
yelling or foaming
within the compass of unknown
unknown surface through
many layers of original waves
These are
times when
none one you
approach closer than my mother
tongue
and truth begins
as an angle or an arch or a full
circle of my skin
unknown surface
perspiring towards
erased and overwritten
none one you closer than early
cloud of Intelligence or Madness
These are times of rain with brief cosmos
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