Wake up, falling from center, reverse, reshift, reverb. Say everything, again, the only again, never twice the originary same. Only a Fool thinks he has a death all his own. Keep trying, saying tries, try what no man hath known, for want of dying well. The urge of belonging.
Life is local.
Hell is out of town. Heaven is unlikely, but likeable, likened to naught. Here is as above as below. Mind rush precedes gold rush. Growing the poem infinitely long and infinitely short in the same breath.