By which they were accomplished
Is magic the hocus-pocus
Of thinking refusing
To think about itself
To catch itself in the very act
As it slips from nothing to nothing
You see the ball but not the player
Who hits it out of sight
Eventually it’s a voice or voices
A monologue in a dialogue
You try to identify who’s speaking
And call it I it must be me
It must be everything that speaks
In me so heartbrokenly
So thoughtfully
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