The Sprawl of Things
Everything, and I
mean everything
piles up. Rosaries,
books, coffeemugs.
It all piles up.
Memories of '70s
songs, unwashed
pajamas, grudges,
crushes, all manner
of stuff. There is
no end to it. I'm not
capable of curbing
the sprawl of things.
Poetry by Uncle Meridian
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Written on 2024-04-03 at 10:31
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Lawrence Beck |
one trick pony |
alarian |