Dressed for Circuses and Stripped for Wrestling

In the inky black

of the Unconscious
they reside: a larger side –
and smaller side astride it:
dressed for circuses
and stripped for wrestling;

waiting to emerge

to train the brain to entertain
more untoward moments,
they contain those bits
of anarchy without
which you would

stand no chance

of gaining mastery
of the ineffable. They aren’t
terrible at effable, in fact:
you might decide
to call them back for that.









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