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Star Black
TICK TOCK
I need the magnitudes of time, its rimless inflections, its poinsettias and driftwood and xylan convulsions, to outride what doesn’t exist: it. The great goop is runnel-less; there is
no square deal. ”To rage, to lust, to write to, to commend” pertains and amends all lean-tos; and they, too, dissolve, like trumpeted presidios into the lush dust, but I need time, unrushed,
for you, the irredeemable, the eye of the Tarot, the disentangled, the “is.” To you I give a quick smudge, its up-gathering brood. O Inanna, your wisdom exceeds vast verities. To love a human
is to lose. Do something. I can’t wink at curtains. Put a word in. Obliterate what’s all too certain.