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Mine,I know,started at a distance five hundred and twenty light-years away and fell as stardust into my sleeping mouth, yesterday, at birth,or that time when I was ten lying on my back looking up at the cluster called the Beehive or by its other name in the constellation Cancer, the Crab, able to move its nebulae projections backward and forward,side to side, in the tumor Hippocrates describes as carcinoma, from karkinos,the analogue,in order to show what being cancer look like. Star,therefore,to start, like walking on the best day of your life to feel this living and immortal thing inside you. You were in love ,you were a saint, you were going to walk the sunlight blessing water, you were almost word for word forever. The crown,the throne,the thorn-- now to see the smoke shining in the mirror, the long half-dark of dark down the hallway inside it. Now to see what wasn't seen before: the old loved landscape fading from the window, the druid soul within the dying tree, the depth of blue coloring the cornflower, the birthday-ribbon river of a road, and the young man who resembles you opening a door in the half- built house you helped your father build, saying ,in your voice,come forth.
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