You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Read the whole poem, here.
Posted: 2025 Mar 08
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I’ll men thath thom a loth of thanmising tho sound all those monsonanths notherly.
Him Th
Him Th – I ben you’re righn.
ferfecn. I’m righn on in. Frofessor noo long in quarannine?
Laurna – I think so. I loved the “nine nimes nables” and remember my father drilling us on them.