Monday, March 27, 2017

Sleepless Valentine

My hummingbird is never still
At least the one who lives in my yard
I wonder if he ever sleeps
Unless he crashes on some leaf high up
Finally at four in the morning
Drunk on all that nectar
After reading a lot of Baudelaire
And thinking about the devil-double
We all carry inside
Though he’s no philosopher
He has his pride
And keeps his distance
From dichotomy and me
And only knows the Lord

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