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                                went for a walk
                                wrote reports
                                posted some poems
                                weeded the garden
                                now I feel empty
                                what’s the point
                                in anything

                                          and then
                                I remembered to

                the meaning is the moment all day long and I
                                had forgotten
                                to breathe





being & doing wormhole: tag cloud poem IV – C
breathing wormhole: 25% scaffolding & rope
garden wormhole: across the room / through the patio doors / through the conservatory windows / at the bottom of the garden / the still bifurcated trunk of / the oak / before the let-grown hair and fringes / of the fir tree / blown every lifetime in a while by the winter sun // actually
pointlessness wormhole: and
publishing wormhole: as they wish
walking wormhole: I glimpse above the rooftops
writing wormhole: no quota too empty / no fate to fulfil