Tuesday, March 31, 2020

You won't find happiness
Buried like bones in the deep earth
Of your pain
But perhaps in some idle
Unlooked-for corner
A bud unfurls
And finds your eyes instead.

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How do I lose myself?

I am not easily misplaced Or forgotten, Arriving as I do Before even the curtains draw And that first morning jug boils, Bleary, yes Grudgin...