I should probably be doing something else but I am out here blogging. Thursday, April 17, 2014. This was originally written to an old friend. I often stand in front of the new poetry section at the library. I read their titles, their names on their binding like breath taking form on ribs. I wait for the shelves to breathe so they can expand, open, and spill all their words into the air as a million whispers, laughs, cries, and screams. I rarely pluck one out.

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