Tonight, my head and heart are racing with ideas and decisions, my cheeks are hot with sunburn, so these will have to work well as any sequence of words for conveying my feelings about the day. The last reminded me of a scrap I finished some time ago, and I offer it uncertainly.
Meanwhile, from where I am in bed, I can see the streaky leftover moon coming up through the trees.
my hands go on getting old. Virginia,
offer the cup of fresh wasps, black and shining,
to my lips. Lay me down again on the rock.
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