Everything is Everywhere

You might write a poem before bed and then fall asleep, dreaming and forgetting just how the poem ends all at the same time. Good, as another day is coming to remember better. And after that, a new moon. But now a kiss is sent from the balcony up to the blushing plum sky again. Mid-song comes a dream of a soup I don’t remember, but soup is secondary to the one who made it, and my eyes begin to close, as the rain begins to fall…

🎶 Everything is Everywhere 🎶


When Summer Begins You Can Win a Book of Poetry

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