May 15, 2004

There are glasses on the nightstand

There are glasses on the nightstand
The pair she reads with
Being now the only thing next to me

They gather and focus the sunlight
coming in through the window
onto the pile of unread books


Poem


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the dress reveals nothing really (cotton, isn’t it?) but quietly suggests the subtle and delicate promise of all that Spring has told me yet never
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A Madness Permeates the Air Years ago, and sometimes still, I recorded my dreams in a little spiral notebook kept near the bed. The first page of the book contains, written