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Melancholy and Limits: Hybrid Prose Poem

The self and therapeutic volcanoes

…madness at the limits of its powerlessness — Foucault

Shunted sideways into infinite corners, stuck ascertaining the third dimension from centimeters away, but it’s the memory of anything light that is, that has been away —



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J.D. Harms

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