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David Chapman


O—This excruciating ecstasy;

Awakening to find beneath my wall,

Something long forgotten.

Prickling with new feeling, and—

Nauseated with joy.

O—soothing scrape, wonderful in

Discovery.  Memories of neglected

Friends—agonizing with their


I burst, spewing warm words like

Regurgitated ambrosia.

The wall no more than an exposed nerve

Wondering why it was built.

O—to find a gate!—releasing

The inner floods to wash

Me clean—access to

The river beyond.