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Handfuls of Earth

pantsless monkey at a keyboard

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i'm not wearing pants
I love the handful of the earth you are.
Because of its meadows, vast as a planet,
I have no other star. You are my replica
of the multiplying universe.

Your wide eyes are the only light I know
from extinguished constellations;
your skin throbs like the streak
of a meteor through rain.

Pablo Neruda
Sonnet XVI
This? Is just another writing journal.
There's not much to be said about it
other than that there are words,
and they try to say things.
And me? Just one more monkey
in front of a set of keys, tapping away.
I think my brain just barfed;
it looks less like Shakespeare
and more like Shake 'n Bake.
I wonder if I could read the shape
of it like an inkblot?

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