In January the tea on
my thin undusted desk as my
neighbor again starts to exercise
looked so stomp thud woozy stomp I
wanted to run to some mountain

but instead retreated upstairs
to a cool toilet and sat where
from the open window from the
courtyard come echos melodies

splash ring soar sink bouncing off white tile
on all sides of this cave to remind
but the dream broke when the crow said

it reminded him of a lost draft of
my novel destined for obscurity


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