Parading

Down Sally Cow Lane and Elsewhere

some bats rock back and forth

This is a house of unwritten poems, —James Tate
to the rhythm of my humming,
to the rhythm of my humming,
the mimosa flutters with bees.
the mimosa flutters with bees.
This is a house of unwritten poems, —James Tate
This is a house of unwritten poems,
—James Tate

atoms

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