[“You thought my body was a tree / in which lived a bird.” – Li-Young Lee]
You wanted me to sing to you, a sweet trill I would replay as often as you liked. But I was not a bird, only a tree’s planed-dead wood, and a wind-up bird with a key in its back,
slow ly
run nin g
d o w n
||
> “books Terence Kuch” on Google or Amazon will lead you to more writing from a naturally curly mind. <<
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