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Madness and Ecstasy: A Prose-Poem

It’s all Foucault’s fault

It’s all Foucault’s fault I’m obsessed — it’s Ginsberg’s fault too — scattering a bit much of the insane into my ecstasy — now in the process of rebuilding the asylum — its inmate had been allowed to tear it down —

but I’m seeing things still — robins upside down, there’s rain in the snow — I’m positive — I’m messy and not anything close…



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J.D. Harms

Former hairstylist, perpetual philosophy student, swallowed by poetry, writing, ideas