Thursday, 5. October 2006
A Morning Note
Light pushing through the darkness,
traces of fog, and dim shapes of birds
at the feeder: signs of things to come.
Yet my eyes are heavy with the weight of sleep, pierced with shards of talk: that alloy of anger, sadness, and pain, shaped like a liminal bubble that wrapped itself around long nights of talk and what passed for love, was perhaps love, and these half-lit mornings that followed.
My Poems
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