'One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star'- Nietzsche
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A doctor once asked me why

stones should not be thrown

in houses made of glass.

They should, I replied

I said, they should

How else would one get out?

(Or think of Alice

at the core of mirrored shingles—

mind-menagerie, jungle of fragmented self—

ogling or smeared leers and everywhere eyes

with nothing to wipe away

distortions, but bags

and bags of broken stones.)

But he was not amused

and scribbled and smiled and conjectured

with his eyebrows. I glared

through raging eyes glazed with fear

and darkness all the way through

the Rorschach blots

building beaming rainbows to castles

and castles of refracted logic.

(Tears are constructed of such rainbows

and rainbows of such glass.)

Fingers pressed to the window pane

with the world whirring past

I wept cold as any stone trembling

all the way to the facility.

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