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What was it,
That I woke up?
That wasn’t enough.
A loose pin required refitting
On my desk lamp, flown and
Buried under unfinished work.
A mechanical issue, an aggravated phone call and a
Mix-up between friends, looking for each other.
Somewhere near the middle part of the day I knew
That there could be no abstinence from action and
That all moments demanded a pushing or a pulling
In accord with what is left undone.
With this, my crackled limbs cling to
Forms, faces and the screen and
Look for detailed work to do, even an old sentence left dangling.
In a conquering stride to find all that is left incomplete.
In mechanical, puppet-work from a high-brain command
That insists I set the conditions for perfection.
That knows: action follows awareness follows
action follows awareness.

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