I am always moralat poetry readingsI pay attention, or I tryI always get lostI begin to rearrange the hair of the poetor to trim (or eliminate) his beardI press his trousersI am fascinated by his fingersI love his pleasure and his disarming smileat a particular phraseI love the little pieces of paper sticking out of hisbooks...
This entry was posted by Ivy
on Tuesday, July 04, 2006 at 2:29 PM.
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