The strange demands of the day die
leaving the way a sigh does,
the breath never to return
This pumpkin moon follows
peeping at us at every turn--
part eye, part bullseye
I pull down the book of myself
skimming--I know I should
be farther along by now
_
leaving the way a sigh does,
the breath never to return
This pumpkin moon follows
peeping at us at every turn--
part eye, part bullseye
I pull down the book of myself
skimming--I know I should
be farther along by now
_
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