Even heart beating in your eyes
The picture of my swollen breast
Dripping and the tears behind
My sockets,
Even love mastered,
Channelled into the void of this chest,
Throbbing with joyed meaning,
Endless nameless the call and cold
Voice that mournfully replies
“Too great, too fine, too perfect
For maggot-healed scabs screaming
Clean innocence to the lonely stars.”
This well-wisher, this forest child
Feeling all the love of the world
Tearing from it in fear and crying
The name of loss, all for love of learning.
No world for this awaits but all
The while moving beyond means
Trees falling without an ear to hear
Wanton progression regardless of precise need.

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