Exploring the thickets of my blood
I am carefully unwrapping the pieces of methat were buried in piles of bones, or tucked behind my earlobeslike a grandpa’s magic quarter, shaking my lungs outlike Christmas stockings to find the jagged edgedsnapshots I had swallowed and left unseen, making books out of songsI never thought I could record, counting the ripplesin the music. … Continue reading Exploring the thickets of my blood
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