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SONG FOR SOCRATES

When all becomes
Retrospectively understood
We might forgive our own sins
Count our regrets
And forget

We might become
Liberated from
An absence of seeing
Or a half-examined life

And

Having exonerated the past
Bridges are burned

Then

Now forgiven……
Lovers and other errors
Return

A kind of death
Is heard

There’s a loss of mass
All’s reduced to a kind of
Holograph

It’s like automatic writing
Emblematic of something

Perhaps artist as seer
Walking around a mountain
Knowing the peak is there
But they don’t care*
(to climb)

Here I am counting my sins
All my memories abide

And

Sex breath and death collide

*A man climbs a mountain because it’s there
A man makes a work of art because it isn’t there

Quote by Carl Andre

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