LATE WINTER my stiff legs on these winter stairs scoured by orbits the realm shines raw the new moon is bent against the dark in every house a fire is burning what a pile of ashes I make! and eat oranges
LATE WINTER my stiff legs on these winter stairs scoured by orbits the realm shines raw the new moon is bent against the dark in every house a fire is burning what a pile of ashes I make! and eat oranges