Posts
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Birthday #3
On September 8th, I woke up to a day like most others.
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lessons of the forest
I wander through the woods. The day is cool and dry, with a wind blowing that smells of wood and fallen leaves. The bracken has begun to brown, though the Joe pye weed and goldenrod still stand strong.
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an encounter
Fear is such a funny thing, which looks at you with no humor in its gaze
and never blinks wide eyes, and is thin and crippled and seething, and has tears glinting off its cheeks, and is
small and alone -
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Loves
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eclipse
the moon's silvery-gray hair
falls in shadows across her face
her pupils waxing and waning
straining
to catch a glimpse of her girl,
her beauty, her sunshine
her pale lips remembering cinnamon warmth
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a year ago today, i wrote a poem,
and i remember i was really proud of it.
hung it up on my wall and everything when it made the newspaper.
a year ago today, i took the grey-brown frown of november
and molded it into metaphors with my own two hands. looking -
instructions on growing up
If you wrap your hand around your mother's wrist
your fingers will touch. How
do you come to terms with that? How
do you learn that your father's shoulders