By daveboyer on September 27, 2024
phlegmy fogthe day coughs
won't starteasily
thin tree mazeshadow calibrates
a headachebuffet
the breezeafter all
muddling throughall elbows and regret
why can't Ishut up about the
moon or prophesyover this still bug
or forgethow to cook an egg
whistle or
black hills thedark sky clear
the way youcold bright spring
… it never truly left Paris … ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ...
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