I changed my name and told
no one. I
talked to this man, and the milk pond yawned
(like red fruit with white insides
it opened) and gave no fish.
Annnnnnnnnnnd something not-mine that I love:
Untitled
by Joshua Beckman
Again the flat world of borrowed things
and the banging of everything that is heavy
into everything else and the cosmos
of the unfeeling is, sadly, just as full
and seeing that is no better
than seeing anything else
or the dove crept into its damp
little hole or
I know how they treated you
and can do nothing about it.
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