Friday, August 9, 2013

night

I kept a typewriter
I carried a little dark suitcase around
I asked the proprietor for some or a little space
I was a stranger
I was always moving about
I knew there was lightning on the moon
I hammered gold letters against the wilderness
I hammered gold letters against the night
I held this light to myself
I had so little to say to all the rest


-- Alfred Starr Hamilton


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