after little sleep

Rejoice in the leaves and sunshine, in dark under mushroom bellies where a lull drags on and minutes stick to things, when all the body wants is to know itself, know it will not be forgotten; rejoice in love-hangers, suit-cases full, in sorrow deserts, silent’s dwelling ground–rejoice in-between–this is what a flock of imaginary birds said to me, ruffling my hair–I thought of You.

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