patience
I may have done, I can't remember; if it was as long ago as last November hair and lard extrusions may well have done stabat.
resembled fronds the sky through brisk fronds
no chance of me remmbering my doctor complints brick nibbling pewter sheep.
starr heath
it water-stole could have been you sequins in rough cushion. stood, standing in the black square with the (you stood concerning) bleak rosebuds if it could be called morning standing. and everyone disappeared by us.
father mother
concentrating face, on the old walls collarbone
may well have frilled my fingers too in the winter; I am patient too. in there with her shoes off. A very long time
Labels: Poems
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