fear full pitcher pours
a damp idea of
into the sockets and eyes

you feel your brain
an organ Icarus tic tock
pastoral growth on a
nerveless range

a picture
of nervous longing
wholly spirit
it swirls in you
and drains

you move your hands
barely conscious
like lovers kiss
before they die

you might
be reborn
after five minutes of death

a poem is a seizure

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