I know what
it seems to panic feeling,
which always creeps somewhere,
when not part of
no wait.
Almanac fully
ticked, there is no longer
time absolutely nothing.
spring congestion
also a legal pad boxes.
You write so
that the pen is broken,
and finally fully under local anesthetic.
People they come,
climbing up along the wires,
I do not remember
I laughed at when
I cried. are invited to go on a date
there and here, someone
on the street yelling in my ear:
Police are our friends.
There goes that the author,
funny woman, it is
a recluse, almost mute.
writes, however,
as gramophone needle,
vaccinated,
busy street to take root again.
I write my name
book cover paper: the Mother.
Ei kommentteja:
Lähetä kommentti