I recorded the noise on my phone so
that you can hear it when I get home.
It seems to be coming from
everywhere and nowhere, as
if the papered walls of this
hotel room are just a set piece.
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Cruel
A poem addressed to David McCooey Already have an account? Log in Join KR for even more to read. Sign up for a free account and read any five pieces […]
This in the News Unmentioned
The aged seamstress on The old road to Querétaro Has no work. Her Sewing machine is broken, And her eyes as well.The rose seller from Santa Julia Reads Neruda and […]
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