When building space stations, space itself is a matter of concern: the space around the station itself, the too cramped space within room for little except to breathe Lingering, yesterday’s image now nurtured, keeping all near, not escaping-- conversations in the hall something about poetry The ache of the impossible Finally, this spring a day with warmth That some truck hit a bridge so that the train was delayed and I caught busses instead. Chaos of contingency and accident (In the rush I almost forgot your birthday)
Monday, May 8, 2017
The last three days worth of poems
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