a poem for today, 17 June 2012

a poem for today, 17 June 2012 
[a word-sorted sonnet of six sentences and its image]
To have a system, this is what is fatal for the mind; not to have one, this too is fatal.
The machine has not separated us from nature; through it we have discovered a new nature never before surmised.
Now that I know that the impossible is merely exceedingly rare, I am free to desire without the pressure.
The victim's body was found in a river in very dark water with a big stone on the head.
I call it the Jazz ball because it wobbles and you simply can’t do anything with it.
My sexuality is not wanting to exist.

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