Sunday, September 4, 2022


 I want to see everything, hear everything,

And share it all— how the walls start to smell moldy,

Violet in the drying light.

And no floor could support a living soul

This may only be the beginning;

So, here I am—I want to feel everything.

The clover filling in the blanks

Between the grass,

And the sky tumbling down the wild, clean hill.

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