1895
6.68
9.iii.25
the day was
cancelled
we got on with ourselves
it would only have ever been more of
the same
some say that the day was under
repair
each of the arrows carried a question
it wasn’t a matter of stepping off the
world
some certain words parenthetically hidden
we were golden from time’s grip
all the would-be day ran rings
of this-to-do and must-be-done
there was a tune I won’t tell
all our own music
come from its wafer daylight
I saw the moon as a stranger
last to grace the night
this all was of course only for us
it was wonderful to be woke
it happened just where we are
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