Wednesday, July 28, 2021

13,730. BROKEN HAND

BROKEN HAND
'My doubtful ambiguity has 
things getting lost. The wind 
blows these paintings off the 
wall, or at least makes them 
crooked as the door gets 
slammed. At evening there's 
a bright light in this window, 
and then it passes. I only 
sometimes wonder about 
that, but by the dark, deep 
days of December, there's 
no longer any of that. 
I burrow. My catacomb 
is a broken hand.'

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