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But a whimper

April 14, 2011

I have been playing possum, haven’t I?

April does something to me, as it did to my favorite poet.

(Or maybe ever since I read this many years ago, I have suffered from an April affliction. I get much influenced by people I adore.)

I have just been doing nothing.

I go to work, sit around for nine hours, come back home.

Then I cook and cook and cook.

Then I lie flat on my bed and read out poetry to myself.

No gym. No TV. No art. No nothing.

Just this…and a lot of stories in my head.

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