Ticcing through the world
is like touching it.
The inward rotation of a spiral
is like amazing tall idea.
Always thinking
around and
out.
Inside the world is the question
of easy touch.
Good thought moves like fluid water
and the way of water is raining
really into the seething good
cracks of wanting
thought.
Mostly I sometimes tic through the world
and that is the way I feel.
I feel the world too much.
So open bothersome work is to feel
inside pandering
to language.
The work is to feel the world
that is touching me.
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