All poems have familiar themes except the ones that don’t: bodies, time, the effect one has on them. Life’s story as if a hammock slouching. Don’t get too attached to any one form; keep making choices; stay alert to what is coming, but also, to what is here. I fell out of a lamp this year and hit my head, but lived. I am traveling through the desert. I am accompanied by many. I have asked if you would walk with me many times in my broken mouth, and must be content with the response I invent daily, which goes something like will you, will you, will you, yes I will, I have, I will.
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Oooh! I love this one.