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You’re a Torah scroll.

You’re a mountain rock.

You’re a page filled with ancient talk.

You’re two, brilliant blue sapphire blocks.

You’re a temple wall,

an empty ark.

You’re masquerading as the dark.

You’re a writer gone mad,

a writer gone to ground,

a writer on the lam,

you don’t want to be found.

You're a palimpsest,

a brazen monologist,

an all-too-fallible psychotherapist

a single,



to the event.

We won’t stop looking for you,

wherever you went.

You will be who you will be.

You’re a blue screen,

You’re the ocean depths.

In the blue of the midday sun,

your throne is all of you

that’s left.

See it from here.

You never talk back.

You’re a divine hack.

You should be better than that.


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