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To acquire wisdom, one must observe

And Even in This Last Frontier

You throw me,

Shrieking,

Into the river

Off the bridge where,

you said,

Portland hung himself

Six or seven years

past

I splash and raise a little

ruckus,

Stay under

to scare you—

Hang with the fishes and

Wonder if there exists

a single inch

of bright, green earth

Where tragedy

Has yet to strike

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