Caveat: Poem #2978 “Cartesian contemplations”

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I try to think about my brain,
 but thing comes to mind, it seems.
Perception stops outside, it's plain.

I try to think about my brain.
 The soul and body split in twain.
A language rules inside, in streams.

I try to think about my brain,
 but thing comes to mind, it seems.

– a triolet.


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