I sit by myself
Not influenced by anyone else
When stillness falls
The murmur of verse
Squirms loaded from its bottomless mouth
When the gun sounds
I become possessed
Set off by its trigger
Like a bullet
Words move toward their target
Transformed into a sharpened grave-digger
As long as the gap of conscious thinking remains
As long as the tap remains opened
As long as I remain sequestered
I can cohort with invisible forces
And witness painful but beautiful birth
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