Psychoanalyzing Angels - Poem by Luce Darwin
I could draw the trees
by your house I know them
and love them so well.
Where is my celestial epitome
when I begin to fail
at cognitive functions
and my fingers slip on my guitar,
and I make a horrible growling noise.
He too, must be drawing your trees.
So I believe in the astral plane,
and study etymology.
Go ahead then,
I have seen words that could have only
been invented when someone had
seen your face,
and the light under your skin,
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