poets live in an
imaginary city in a
with apologies to Marianne Moore
I live in a real city in an imaginary world.
Yes, Bill, I can imagine that.
I’ve been thinking about this difference as well … partly because of how much i like to be in this world of words when my dishes call out to be washed.
So relieved to hear you say that, Elisabeth … there are no words for how squalid my house has become since I started this blog.
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