the heart is a muscle the size of Wyoming

I dreamed I told the total and complete absolute truth
about everything I ever thought or did or felt
I set myself up in a truth-telling booth
on the corner of Eight Mile and Middlebelt
in a town full of people who wanted no part
of the worms of confusion that struggle and chafe
in the heart of the heart of the seven-lock safe
in the locked danger room of my heart
I told and I told and I told my unbeautiful
hate and my hunger to everyone
I told them my fears and the strain of being dutiful
and how a poet's work is never done
For somehow whenever I told the worst part
Of the last of my secrets so ugly and varied
New and more secret thoughts formed and were buried
in the heart of heart of the heart of my heart

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