Wonder
A day drunk with the nectar of nowness weaves its way between the years to find itself at the flophouse of night to sleep and be seen no more. Will I be less dead because I wrote this poem or you more because you read it long years hence.
PoetryVerse
A day drunk with the nectar of nowness weaves its way between the years to find itself at the flophouse of night to sleep and be seen no more. Will I be less dead because I wrote this poem or you more because you read it long years hence.
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