My feet are like marble.
Begging for socks.
Think a lovely Homeric underworld color.
The temperature next to me is 59 degrees.
I have worn certain letters off my keyboard.
"M" and "N" vanished together (aMNesia?)
V is half there? (My half-cocked loVe?)
This is the medial strip of my sonnet.
You can feel free to play here
but do cartwheels naked. Watch out for traffic.
I woke and read something by Rachel.
Then something by Todd's dead friends.
Both made me feel warmer.
What should this line say about existence?
How should this line resolve the world?
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