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JakobVirgil · 4512 days ago · link · · parent · post: I'm a crummy poet, but I'm writing a poem a day for 2013
Reply for Jan 1
Death singing 'the neck is always our future, a texture of sun' a bird fell.
Pretend you can hear our voices, a wing, sand, old cypress. You, stiff but your elbow.
More about us behind, we feel the heat of the sun, and touch your wrinkles and skin from the skin.
The walk always grave we arrived when they do not feel interested in the factors. You.