mornings thought is to pour
out heaving gulps or sighs
from heaven- rainy sleety
love from heaven to me this morning.
stepping quickly cross pavement
beckoning on continuously,
to me, stretching on,
beckoning on and reckoning on
the fact I’ll arrive
a lit room preserved
untouched for me.
this they call work
and I labor at words
for you and me.
more for me or more
for you? I’m not sure but
you understand.
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