All the patients in the world could not satisfy these doctors
who poke and prod and have them lie
and steal and cheat and are instrumentalized
by their towering but collapsing intellects,
these epigones,
these eidolons,
these foul cruelties stretched over
and over and over
until taut as drum-skins they beat out the beat
and it pretends sublimity, this thunder,
but does it know it is a thunder of the mind?
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