A poem for grim city AMs
A poem for grim city AMs
Living deep in an unfamiliar PLACE
When I was writing pretty poor poetry, this girl with midnight black hair told me to go on.
Carl Sandburg
waking up
outside there is a wailing, staggered footsteps and a crackle of broken glass inside I am considering if the brown at the bottom of my mug is worth washing out or if the take-away from this afternoon is worth eating cold in the end I decide…
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