I sever the city from my back
and say my matins, Damn
this zipper is stuck again.
Or, Thank you, I’m alive,
but still don’t know
who I’m talking to.
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writings, musings, poetry from the south shore of the north coast
1 comment:
I love this selection of random stanzas, and this one is my fav..
I guess I talk to myself or the trees or dogs and wonder
who am I really talking to . . .
But mostly it's the way you think I respond to . . .
Makes me want to write . . .
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