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"Poetry is the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash." Leonard Cohen

Tuesday, January 29, 2013


The cold has become the stuff of legend again, freezing exposed skin in under a minute; I find myself feeling extra-weary when it gets like this and falling in and out of sleep. A couple of times over the last day or so, I've wakened thinking I need to call you about something then, remembering I can't, or I don't need to after all, I am suddenly suffused with sadness. And glad of the tears - they seem so normal finally.

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