Posts
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figures of the night
we sat and imagined fireflies
flitting between the tops of the RVs
as the sun disappeared into muggy,
illicit sludge. we realized we both liked
the sticky-sweet taste of summer
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The sun
you're not
leaving yet. no,
i'll glue your limbs to the pavement,
lower your waving hand,
tell you
something to make your eyes crinkle
again.
again,
again,
again.
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Curl Cream
I have been told
To put curl cream in my hair
Upside down, eyes
Straining against the ceiling light,
Curls straining toward the tile floor,
Bunching.
I will smell
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Dress
I'm wearing the same dress I wore last year, on an evening that felt like moonlight even though the sky was still a milky purple-blue by the time we left, arms linked, laughter spilling over each other and turning the air fragrant, because back th
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Lonely Rhymes
Today I thought I looked pretty
It must have been a trick of the light
I can't fall asleep in this city
I wish that you'd come stay the night.
Last week I talked to you for hours
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stranger to blue water
sing to me.
i've been a stranger once more
to your hills and valleys, to the
gaps of sunlight between your grasping evergreens.
i've been a stranger
to the red barn
Loves
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The East Wind
The East Wind is a rabbi in a darkened shul. He sits pored over the Torah scroll long into the night, his back bent like a cane. People come and go and come again, whispering prayers for the needy, the hungry, the sick.
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I am not afraid of spiders
Grief, in all forms, in all ways, changes you. I am not afraid of spiders—they crawl, and they creep, and they dangle from their long lines of gossamer webbing, and they watch me.
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Unlovable
What inherent flaw?
what celestial wrong?
missing ingredient?
failed experiment?
am I?
how am I so unlovable,
that no one comes to hold,
my sorry hand?
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I Will Love You Forever
I went to work the day after they announced it. I stocked the shelves and listened to the radio from the speakers in the warehouse ceilings. Cars were piling up at the exits, trying to get out of town.
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The Season of Figments
Perhaps Autumn is the season of figments. When what’s real is hidden behind mountains of fog. It is a time when what isn’t dances perilously close to what is. The same way the burning leaves that fall, perform their final reel with the wind.
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Let's Get Vulnerable About A Boy (again) ((it sucks this time))
I want you to be happy. First and foremost, I truly do. I also want you to hurt. I'm not sure if you will ever escape yourself, but if or when you do, I hope it is healing to you.