Cities and suburbs, real and imaginary.

Tuesday, July 8, 2025

Sonnet #362

 Sonnet #362

What purpose making beds when autumn comes?

The dogs were quick to leap under the blankets

And twist and turn and scrape into their glum

And not much later, I took the tea and drank it

Squeezed between their tangled bodies' warmth

And wait for all the rains to sweep the streets

And wind to come down screaming from the north

The leaves will fall, the sidewalks glisten, in sheets

we wait for all the worst to blow beyond

this taste of cosmic darkness, echoes sky 

where emptiness and cold eternal yawns

Our ship of earth is turning in the sigh

Of cosmic winds and raging nebula in entropy

So spin my darling puppies; huddle close to me.

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