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I scratched all this down blind in the night
pick a time of day
and it’s morning
all the peaks unwrapped
still draped about
show so deshabillé
now proud for their distance
how many!
porridge trudge to loo to do
in the all night light I dreaming am
it’s stone to stone in image cling
mire midst
as if true sleep were sinking winter
and I must fight the dark
fight for it
be illegible
making my magic just of words
seeing the words fall apart
houses here so long since written
under the covers cold creeps
like thin daylight
try sleeping again and find
a word is looking me up
and find myself below the word
under the whole pile
as good as gone to them
wind whistling through my teeth
must leave words to sleep
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