Trapped inside
two-dimensional torus
backward spinning

Not even my pulse
emits an echo – would need
a third dimension for that

Am geometrically disfigured,
an illusion, I fear, for human
substance seldom adds up.

(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own,)


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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

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