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Archive for April 23rd, 2012

By Mather Schneider

Sometimes intelligence
is a place with no oxygen

like a man laughing so hard
he can’t breathe.

Nobody knows how we
are built to live, why we go
bat-crazy over every
little thing, how it all

got warped and goes
on warping, hour by hour,

or what humor means
when your life is a maze

with a center of pain
and your soul is a moth-

eaten substitute for immortality.
Laugh that the torment felt

is not a torment meant
but an accident.

Laugh that our lives are
barely a moment

to the tamarind
sun.

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