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picking at the seam

you start on the sermon on the mount
and I will take the ascension
and clutter it with doubt

Lies, of course. I will spend the day clearing up all the fallen apples from the garden and cutting back the briers.
The soil has darkened and hardened, and really I should be taking to my bed.
A new friend has suggested that I digest some Bachelard. She thinks it may bring me back to verse, to words.

But I am more taken by the fact that I would have to take to my bed to read the text.

Forgive me. I am forty and I still fall asleep in the middle of my lessons.

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