Posts
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Highways
It’s a clear day. The sky is blue. The grass is green. And we are driving down the highway. The journey is marked by spastic bursts of conversation and a chunkily categorized landscape. I press my nose to the glass and point. -
Prayer book
I wanted to experience Catholicism, the ritual of eating God on a dreary Sunday morning. So last winter, I hauled myself up the hill to St. -
Wet Paper
Our eyelids slowly fold,
your fingernails creasing my skin
as you tell me not to cry.
Suppressed by geometry,
there’s no room for imprecision
in our origami sorrow.
There will come a day,
when wet and wrinkled, -
Schrödinger's Cat
The refrigerator has skin.
It hums, cold through the cold night, singing to itself.
There is an emptiness wound into our mechanisms.
In the dark, I poured myself a cup of orange juice. -
Cherry Tree, Blossoming
Cherry tree, you flourish in so many fragile ways.
I shelter under your bare boughs, waiting for spring.
Time moves delicately, upward with splayed fingers.
We sit together, cold and open to loose clouds. -
Hidden
It’s a delicate thing, living,
waiting to notice the sun.
Twisted, like a autumn leaf,
I turned with your breath.
Our fingers were tangled,
together, made to be one.
Loves
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cutting fruit
the sound of laughter through sun-spotted trees,
i dreamed last night we were fae frolicking
in rings of toadstools, in and out of trees.
fireworks went off in my head as
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on the off-road?
two weeks ago we were stuck in the plains
somewhere in the midwest with no service. you pulled out
some 1999 AAA member's map and said
"crack it open," and i still loved you, even then. words flowed
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Spring
One very nice afternoon I went on a walk through the swampy wet woods to see the very pretty and soothing river flow on my way there I met this very cute and nice rabbit she said her name was Synthia, Synthia had walked with me to the river to wat
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"What dwells in the between?"
I have walked over the bridge
And seen the river that flows,
I have walked through the blue flags
And seen only shadows of frost.
The towering no longer stoop
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drumming thunder
I drum
beating the small snare with my power
I may be small
but I am the loudest in the band
the base is thunder crashing
the snare is the rain slamming to the earth
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Coffee Shop Observations
A young woman sits in a coffee shop in London, England, with her back straight, her head pointed forward, and her eyes wandering into the rainbow mists of Wonderland.