VERSE
The hour keeps its own weather
I left a lamp inside the rain— not to end the dark, but to give it somewhere tender to arrive.
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02
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Inheritance
My name is a room my ancestors kept warm.
03
PROSE POEM
After the city sleeps
Every window becomes a small moon. Every unanswered message learns the patience of dust. Somewhere, a poet turns the last train into a promise.
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