a poem for today, 7 September 2012
[a letter sorted sonnet of nine sentences and its image]
It starts with an encounter that's not calculable but afterwards you realize what it was.
‘Lay' will slowly slip into past tense.
Almost.
There will come a time when all this will make sense.
Recognize that your eyes are naturally drawn to look over another person's body, and that it is an instinct which will always be there.
My namesake was also into hats.
We spend so much time disguising ourselves to others, we end up losing track of who we really are.
I didn’t believe I could ever be seen as an object of desire.
When it rains it pours.
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