Do you hear sighing.
Do you wake amid a sigh.
Radio sighs AM,
Shortwave sighs crackle in from the Atlantic.
Hot sighs steam in the dawn.
People kissing stop to sigh then kiss again.
Doctors sigh into wounds and the bloodstream is changed for ever.
Flowers sigh and two noon bees float backwards.
Is it doubt.
Is it disappointment.
The world didn’t owe me anything.
Leaves come sighing in the door.
Bits of girl sigh like men.
Forgeries sigh twice.
Balthus sighs and lies about it, claiming it was Byron’s sigh.
A sigh may come too late.
Is it better than screaming.
Give me all your sighs for four or five dollars.
A sigh is weightless,
yet it may interrupt the broadcast.
Can you abstain.
What is that hush that carries itself up each sigh.
We hunt together the sigh and I,
sport of kings.
To want to stop is beyond us.
The more sighs shine the more I’m in trouble – some kind of silvery stuff –
you thought it was the sea?
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