Monday, April 4, 2022

a story about the body or not

 every day is accompanied by a body that is not of my own making but of my own making 

dripped 

in 

extraordinary time 

a vessel myrtle'd each spring between the somnolent and the rain why oh why are we waking just as we tire from the ordinary, why is this not the face i believe to be mine but that of someone much older and not yet laced with wisdom bolder  but infinite and golden

wire wrapped in every joint & sinew this sharp reminder of mortality echoes against the bloom of april

against the spark of tenderness that the robin sings so easily of .... 



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