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61 Gospel of the Golem of Los Angeles The students glisten with youth. Every one of them is beautiful. The world has yet to enter them and breathe away their souls. i want to be like the children, but i am dirt and clay. i woke one day and told myself, Stand up and walk like a man! i raised my dust up out of bed and looked into the mirror but couldn’t read the word written by my forehead lines. i keep a piece of paper under my tongue and on it one word: be. So i write my way into my life, trying to name it as it leaves and walk this clay around, a thing empty of belief. My body’s covered with hair, just like a human being, but my hands are sticks; my brain’s in rags. These days i feel the hand of death on my forehead and it feels like a relief. ...

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