I go through phases of voracious interest,
Consuming news articles like barroom peanuts;
The bland, crusted shells crushed and pulled apart,
discarded on the floor in the search for the fruit.
Words of experts and personalities,
Partisan philosophers,
Ideologues,
demagogues,
charlatans,
They all have their say, clouding and muddying
The same story. I’m left with shadows,
A light bulb burning out, a moth fluttering
Against a glass shell, seeking the spastic filament inside.
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