I've lived a messy life for a long time―
beads of sweat, disease, some clothes in tatters
on the floor. My mind itself dissolved
with Sun in Sagittarius. I thought that I
had died. My friend had said it was just like
I went through a door and couldn't get back.
Smelly dreads―hair that's falling out
and dancing in the open car windows―
the animals like it. A malefic
rules my chart from the 12th house; illusions
move about me, new translations of
a sutra from the East. O put me back―
or forward―to what's surely meant to be
my duty, put me in a poet's form.
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