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I didn't know a single branch And preferred devotions over nature. For my part, poems were something anarchical-- Much more so than people. But when I met you, coming out of the sore Spot that was "poems," I didn't think twice. Like a yellow shock in the winter grass You were a weight on my heart. I forgot my prayers and learned weeds. My heart was a bell in my chest. And verse was already insufficient, darling To predict our path, convulsion-- the quantum: you and me. posted by Reen |link| 0 comments |