7: 07 p.m.
Yesterday's memories falling out all over themselves,
wanting to be seen first.
Allowing the images to line up and unite, giving in
to each other so they'll all get a chance to be seen
and written in poems.
Maybe becoming famous in literature of the future.
7: 08 p.m. 11/7/13
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem