22 Nov - my weather. my roof shoulders the abuse of rain, the lashes by the clouded sky, the verbal profanity of the gods. While the gashes of the brittle wind cause my window to be hurling by its hinge. stepped out, i saw blue skies, dry pavements and happy streeters. none of whom saw my weather.
25 Oct-
i noticed.
he sings like a book,
harmonize and sway
as if string and wired to the mixer
like a professional,
he sings for his food.
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