POINT OUT here is an impossibility resting on the floor of a room bare except for this thing that cannot be it turns itself about and about looking for a mirror but nothing will agree to reflect it it wishes to see itself so that it can join the kingdom of what exists but all it has is an empty space so much not there that it doesn't even have an odor the only one it has in all its starkness is me coming to it with consolations that sound like a genealogy leading up to my own name
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