collecting thoughts
as if they
were
rare coins
or stamps
keeping
them in
a book or
two
busting the
binding
book can’t
hold onto
the thought
holds them
together or apart
of the
whole
image is
one
compromised
of all the feeling
that hides
down deep
digging
feet into the spot
so as not
to lose this place
hands
together in front
and behind
these eyes
teardrops
wait for
the right
moment
losing
track of time and space
between two
draws
closer to the edge
but further
from the ground
stares up
into the night sky
has finally
cleared…
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