Poetry, notes, and marginalia by William Michaelian
I bought a wind chime once from Byron Bay, a place called the Hidden Valley. I read about your restlessness here, like your mother's wind chime and I listen out for mine. But it's still tonight. There's no wind and I'm not restless. Yours is a lovely image, William, as ever.
Thanks, Elisabeth. So is yours.
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2 comments:
I bought a wind chime once from Byron Bay, a place called the Hidden Valley.
I read about your restlessness here, like your mother's wind chime and I listen out for mine. But it's still tonight. There's no wind and I'm not restless.
Yours is a lovely image, William, as ever.
Thanks, Elisabeth. So is yours.
Post a Comment