smiling a little too much
it is the thought that counts
grounding the ideal
we will say things
too many of them
behind closed doors
(and the sun continues)
*posted in 2019, edited in 2022
she was weaving a story
it felt
good but the weft threads were shaking
memories were
interrupting the most beautiful dreams and
awakening
a sense of dizziness
I close my eyes to listen to my roots, the roof over my head an illusion that did not hold up, I would take somebody else’s voice to fill the guest card and then lay down, exhausted, in my dark stories.
looking for (something)
finding (it)
crossing (it) out
reformulating (it)
doing (it) again
finding (it sometimes)
Un blog experimental voue a la poesie du quotidien sous toutes ses formes/An experimental blog devoted to poetry in all its forms
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