I could strangle Holderlin
for hiding out so long
except maybe he was psychically
imprisoned by too much walking
and heartbroken of course
by too much loving
of a certain kind
what do the events of one’s life
have to do with the noise of roses
our weighted heads
calm as pear halves
afloat on sunshine kisses
a world whose walls
only reached as far
as we could love.
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