Posts
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ballerina in a music box
anxiety goes tick-tick-tick
in the monochrome metronome of clockwork clicking
yet the key keeps turning, turning, turning,
'till creaking cogs are fit to crack
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panis
i think about the first time someone made bread. why they made bread. how they made bread. who was the first scientist, this alchemist of water and oil and heat? i wonder if they were curious. i wonder if they were hungry.
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an apple shared at the end of the world
we watched the world end from the top of skyscrapers
as the stars set the sea aflame
as highways gave way to yawning mouths
as kudzu devoured what was left of our neighborhoods
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a letter to my mother
how do i say--
yesterday, you called me a miracle
and i believed you because
you can make me believe
anything.
(you have not always wielded that well.)
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cardiac
last week, my brother dropped his heart
on the pavement and we both
watched as it cracked right open,
spilling in red ribbons and golden gears
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the burden of righteous fury
Most of the time I find myself angry
and it's the kind of anger that you
hold onto, you know, fists tight,
stomach burning, because someone has to be
angry. no one else is angry.