Keeping Things Whole
In a field
I am the absence
of field. . . .
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The Kiss
Are you shaken, are you stirred
By a whisper of love,
Spellbound to a word . . .
kitchenette building
We are things of dry hours and the involuntary plan,
Grayed in, and gray. “Dream” makes a giddy sound, not strong
Like “rent,” “feeding a wife,” “satisfying a man.” . . .
