in flaking morning light air some times
i say nothing all at once

my eyes ,filled of white fabric folds,
while you curl here before my
,and beauty, you yawn

you memory, i live for such a placetime
,now in the locker of winter———
,the iceveins chess plays deep,for days
for days do not expand as water,when frozen,
in defiance of temperature and pressure
>>in stead there are fewer warm minutes
>>,sunlight to my back,inthemorning,

(so , i just follow the sun around
 so it warms my neck in the afternoon)
in squares on the (which are technically
rectangles) carpet (projected antishadows
evaporating thermodynamically)

in ( f(fl(laki(ing(g morn
ing(g ( lig(ght ( ai(ir some times
i taste what it was to live and

Why should that stop me from feeling?

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