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Circling

Most of me
lives most
of my time
neither in
joy, disgust,
pain, nor any
handwringing
state of mind
but in quiet
autonomic--
liverlike,
stomachlike--
on some edge,
ready for
interest,
boredom,
escape,
hovering over,
cycling, circling,
like a cat, what
has happened
to me since
first cry
in the Midwest,
waiting for
success,
happiness,
honors
so certain
to come
in spite of
death and
nothing.

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