from this window, i cannot see the stars. only the dust of industry. maybe another room might greet me more warmly. but here, i can be the stranger i always meant to be, here i can live a life uncompromised by being known.
In which a long-time record collector and sometimes poet shares shares vinyl finds, words of worth, and plays keep or cull.
The little poet in the grand metropolis, how I love this poem and the idea!
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