Posts
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Organized Yet Abstract
A streak of gray rushes to the sky,
Soaring and arching,
Up, up, up.
A thin line of smoke is left behind,
A trail of the firework's journey.
It begins to ark,
The parabola beginning to be graphed, -
An Arrow Drawn Back
My fingers pull back,
The arrow drawn with it,
The tip aimed down at the target.
My breathing steadies,
My thoughts slow,
Nothing else mattering.
The thin, pointed cone aims,
Steading towares the ring, -
A Determination to Grow
Little berries lie in front of me,
The seeds still clinging to the vine,
The red still darkening to black.
They greedily soak up the sun,
Their cloroplasts begging for the light,
Their leaves fanning open. -
Overlapping theories
My eyes study my drawing,
Laying simply on the white paper in front of me,
Pouring over the intersecting lines,
Connecting corners,
And overlapping connections.
Each line is only a representative, -
A Story Whirls Into View
My feet spin my bike pedals,
Pushing me along the trail
As stories invade my focus.
My mind swirls,
Colors whirl,
As ideas emerge from the flurry.
Names fill my head,
Plots come into view,
Places teleport into my thoughts. -
A Capability of Beauty
The warm, salty waves wash away,
Swirling patterns in the sand,
Sending crabs and clams
Burrowing into the rock grains.
The waves churn the sand,
Uncovering, leaving behind,
Delivering small,
Delicate treasures:
Loves
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Three Hearts
Octopuses have three hearts. I’ve been told that I do too. Is it the way I look at you or the way I listen? Is it how I place my hand on your shoulder or how I smile?
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(yet another incomplete poem)
something hits me differently
when the asphalt is wet from the rain,
and my music is turned up all the way.
my sky blue converse stained with the tears of the clouds...
i can't ever think straight.
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Arrogant
Your gut curdles.
Your skull stays stiff.
Your flesh shakes,
your feet are wet.
The world can’t fit
inside your shell.
Your skin splits —
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