its not tragic, its like a miracle... an adaptation of sorts?
as if we could slip off the ridge and sleep, it would figure that this not being the case
would be the case
i can take it with me all of the day through, and will
with that in mind, bearing in mind time and triumph over
well, what can triumph be but resistance, delirious shifts in vision
an abstraction of early lift, as in morning
as far as forty minutes go,
un-shunned sun does suggest sophomoric alleviation
of virtuous ties
to none but dust
and day
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