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gestalt 1

when alone he drinks of it and memories
overwash him in his dimness

when melancholy, he drinks it
and floats past the clarity of terror
he has known
he calls it solitude and licks the supple grapeskin
to his tongue, lets it linger in the mouth,
then sucks it past the newly-rusted teeth,
down the rock-encrusted throat

from "dying by pieces and other rituals"
©bonaventure saptel and buzzard press