I am the singular
in free fall.
I and my doubles
carry it all:
life's slim volume
spirally bound.
It's what I'm about,
it's what I'm around.
Presence and hungers
imbue a sap mote
with the world as they spin it
I teach it by rote
but its every command
was once a miscue
that something rose to
Presence and freedom
re-wording, re-beading
strains on a strand
making I and I more different
than we could stand.
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