28. a breakfast poem
air crisps as crackling oil
frosted light bathes my frying pan
i have the quiet
of making my own morning
a yolk, gold, dawn gold
i eat the sun - delicious
delicious midnight
a winter comes, delicious.
air crisps as crackling oil
frosted light bathes my frying pan
i have the quiet
of making my own morning
a yolk, gold, dawn gold
i eat the sun - delicious
delicious midnight
a winter comes, delicious.
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