Wednesday, March 11, 2015

A persistent messy room

every night 
when I write my poem, 
I see piles of
pens and pencils,
pajama bottoms,
paperwork and bills,
bicycle lights,
bottles of ink and books,
mice and music,
a dog sniffing about,
suitcases and socks, 
scissors and snapshots,
magazines and magnets.
every night,
I am perplexed
by my persistent

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