Depending on one's priorities,
This poetry gig I've been playing
For a paying audience of none
Can seem a form of nihilism
Or a form of idealism.
Nothing but the raw ingredients
For this relentless conversation
Between a body dreaming a world
And the world that may or may not have
Dreamed up the small body dreaming it
Exists. A silkworm has to be boiled
Before it escapes and wrecks the threads.
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