Sieving stiffly through the silt and mud for
sparkle – history a mire through which
you muck and barely manage
to extract a bit more
gilt from guilt --
dropping
deep
into
the vortex
from which you
may not be able next time
to ascend: nothing in the brittle
fearful sifting apparatus of you can
imagine how to bend, or blend, or mend.
.
.
.
.
.
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