i wandered out in the dead of night
and questioned who may have been making me dream;
for the ghosts who sang came not of my mind;
they ached and cried,
and shook and sighed,
and made me do the same:
am i an able man?
whose shoes do I wear?
and have i worn them before?
three times I asked myself these questions,
and three times I heard only the emptiness
of the dead fire in my chest:
until the triple knot of existence
swelled up inside of me
and breathed blue fire
acrylic on canvas, 22"x30"
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