Nov 14
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worn out ines

I have held many hands,
my hands have been held by many.
In circles and on pathways,
through caves and across mountains.
These palms have met the fates
of many and felt what my eyes
miss, stone stained and nervous slick
they tell a human story.

Even in the dark I have found my way,
hands first feet second crawling
as if a child. Starlit palms
glide along rushing water as if to push
through the surface into zero gravity.
Where they would feel their way along
the planets as if they were trying
to savor their own kind of memory.

Take a quick snapshot to marvel
at later when they sit underneath
stick on stars that make a half finished
galaxy on my ceiling somewhere.
They have been a life line and scissors.
Cut away all my threads and sewn
new ones again and again and again.
I have wrung them out to try and dug
my nails in deep, these hands, who have
Nov 14
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​a letter to all my lost scars

You didn’t have to hide there, softly
shaking with prayers
that someone would do the dirty
work for you. Do not expect each
passerby to jump in your grave
and push and pull
until they are lost too.

Be grateful for the flowers left
every day to show that you were
always on a mind, even uninformed,
even if their name was lost
on the guest list. The offerings
are there to help you creep
out on your own.
Show you there is still sweetness,
still fruit that needs to be eaten
and flowers to be smelled.

Thank the woman who came
and lifted the arms of your stone
headboard to clean every crack
and crease, kept each grey peak
new for you while you lay, writhing
underneath the dirt.
Bet you would never guess
to leave it behind you
would have to be buried some more.

The tremor of your breath
and the race your heart runs
Nov 10
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The All-Inclusive Need to Catch Snowflakes on Ones Tongue

Tigers are coming in the snow,
flying high over white roof tops
and drifting down in gales of cold.
Whispers and roars drowned out by hail.
The eyes in a face too small yell
in hope that those orange heads turn.

I cannot find the teeth she does,
or have a wish to catch cold air
in what is now a full grown fist.
The job is always make hers grow
but I want these dim tigers here,
stay and steal the world for her mind.

A supernova danced and came
off beat and free, some alien
who spins, in spite of those who see.
Like flowers in a storm, not crushed.
Somehow still there, brightly smeared
across the windshield of the world.

 
Oct 30
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No One Facilitates Esoterism in the Desert

Quiche sings slow stories of an egg, each onion
adorned the comet where they eclipsed
simple lungs and their capacity to traverse green hills.

Is it so common to seek the company of a beagle?
not such an earthly code
when loud stars sparkle.

No poisoned fruit condescended my dinner table.
They rescinded the zone congested by lung fulls
of rain, guarded by the coast guards fish.

Fish never travel running, it's not salvageable.
The tutu is the apparent business none have
discovered. My child, lost, foresaw the future.

 
Oct 22
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Our culture

I see their faces every day,
all the ones I didn't save.
I am not enough, the problem
needs more than me in
my one man army. I need
you. This fight agains the rising
tide will sweep me away.

I know it's hard to change the
way you lived your whole life
and break the cycle but if
we are gonna make change 
we have to change. Take the
action right now, please,
stop killing animals.

That baby didn't want to be taken
away from its mother. The 
chick didn't want to be thrown
atop its other fallen kind to
suffocate and starve in a 
plastic trash bag. Nothing 
deserves to be repeatedly raped
and forcefully impregnated 
until it dies, turned into some
machine.

Kicked down and 
abused by people who are trying
to feed their families and are
sick from the fumes of decay
and ptsd of repeatedly electrocuting
Oct 22
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The hate I cant speak out against

I have seen the slaughter houses,
the trash bins full of the dead curled bodies
of a life lived suffering and crushed. 
56 billion. Thats every year of those on land.
Thats how many animals suffered and
screamed, how many we didn't care
enough to save, it makes me sick and its
all I can do not to tear my hair out and scream
and spit in the lunch line as government funded
tyson chicken is served on shit 
plastic platters. I hate it, it burns in me
like a fire, this hatred for the system that
destroys everything and those it feeds. 
I keep my mouth shut as I see my friend 
pull a plate and the horror of the life that 
creature lived flashes in my mind. I cant
speak out without losing everyone I love, I 
already got teased and poked and had meat 
shoved in my face as they think that that dead
body will tantalize me. "Oh look here Shyloh
I am so happy eating this and all you get
Oct 22
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to be taken apart bit by bit

You must admit that he is still the one,
no sense closing your ears.
What else would you call it,
a little bit
like converting sunlight
presenting how memory is laid down:
built up and broken down over the years.
When you have come to me, and I have returned to you
Others will scarcely trust my candid heart;
speechless before the truth,
Love comes quietly,
What stranger miracles are there?


Lines used for my cento poem:
1st line: Love Song for Love Songs by, Rafael Campo
2nd line: Four lack songs by, Susan Stewart
3rd line: Left by, Nikky Finney
4th line: Our happiness by, Eileen Myles
5th line: A Small Needful Fact by, Ross Gay
6th line: Not Nothing by, Kimiko Hahn,
7th line: Do Not Speak of the Dead by, Cecilia Llompart
8th line: These Hands, If Not Gods by, Natalie Diaz
9th line: I Do Not Love Thee by, Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton,
Oct 10
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5 things I don't know or understand

1. How do the thousands of spiders that
crawl up and down my cells appear
so fast? The weight, every voice
becomes another creature of a
hysteria based affliction. Even in the
dark, like a twig you didn’t snap,
whiplash from the shock but even a
soothing voice feels just like a lie.

2. What does it feel like to hold long
and fast a sound mind. To grip the bouy
through even the worst monsoons, shake
yourself off, wag your tail, and do it again.
I still get up with all teeth showing but
my sockets are empty and face gaunt
and white, waterlogged with salt pouring
from my wounds.

3. How can the spring not lift you high,
everyone shines around you pink with
the new pearly moon and you still sit,
sectioned off with winter still on your
shoulders, sucking yourself in afraid of
the inevitable absence of light, it’s still
months away.
Oct 04
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Greeting Change

Even without trees, you can still tell
when it’s winter. Everything hides
in the holes along the side of a trail,
somehow overgrown but without life.
The crystal fragments that fall cold,
and get caught in my eyelashes
make the world clean, easy to mess
up.

Without the nonsensical warbling
of birds gone by can you ever really
tell if march came and went? A ten
degree change and your facing a street
full of shorts and t-shirts. The days
are longer but it really only means
less sleep for me.

Trees don’t just wake up on their own,
that’s my theory. It’s the fifteen hours,
the five am start that sets the wheel
rolling. Sleepy lakes whispering wake
up to birch on a shoreline, it only lasts
so long, one wonders if the bliss was
worth the pain of it ending, maybe I
should move.

You don’t just stand and stare like
your in a coma, why does beauty
Oct 04
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Greeting Change

Even without trees, you can still tell
when it’s winter. Everything hides
in the holes along the side of a trail,
somehow overgrown but without life.
The crystal fragments that fall cold,
and get caught in my eyelashes
make the world clean, easy to mess
up.

Without the nonsensical warbling
of birds gone by can you ever really
tell if march came and went? A ten
degree change and your facing a street
full of shorts and t-shirts. The days
are longer but it really only means
less sleep for me.

Trees don’t just wake up on their own,
that’s my theory. It’s the fifteen hours,
the five am start that sets the wheel
rolling. Sleepy lakes whispering wake
up to birch on a shoreline, it only lasts
so long, one wonders if the bliss was
worth the pain of it ending, maybe I
should move.

You don’t just stand and stare like
your in a coma, why does beauty

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