Our Maddnesses…

Our madnesses are maddening our minds together
by so sweet a tongue as angels might
never, not once, know.

Know? We ask ourselves of ourselves, madly mingling
together, to know, all things with
ever exceeding foison.

But abundantly—only madly, mind us—we, withhold
our rich realms of ruin to abide in
a dream unknowable.

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