words words words
spinning circles in the air
from his lips up to my ears
but i do not let them in
i deny their diffusion
because i am wonderstruck
from the window scenes.
the drone, drone, droning of this bass drum voice
is a steady soundtrack
to the winter inside my head. there,
i am lying on a bed of evergreen braches
on some handsome, cotton-colored hill
frozen
i am not listening to what you say!
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