1d
Poets taste letters
on the tip
of their tongue,
make lines out of
nothing before
sleep gets along.
They sit and they hum
and they write
in a streetcar at noon,
in the heart of the night.
on the tip
of their tongue,
make lines out of
nothing before
sleep gets along.
They sit and they hum
and they write
in a streetcar at noon,
in the heart of the night.
