in the long early hour
between coffee and showering
I quiet my clamoring
body in borderless layers
the way snow mutes a city,
so even in this winter-
gray cloud-lit morning,
everything sounds like a sunrise.
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Just what is a God of Tangerines and/or Death?
- Elliott James
- This is my little forum for unpolished/semi-polished poems. It's a way for me to share my writing with friends, and with whomever happens to Google "Tangerines."
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