Posts
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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
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you already know summer
you've felt
the brambles and sweat,
the curl of berry-stained lips.
you've seen
the cornflower sky stolen
by a red-orange river,
the evening still thick
with lightning bugs and laughter.
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january 24th, 2010
her voice sounded heavy to her, filled
with the unnamed emotion
everyone had told her to expect. except
she hadn't. she'd rolled
her eyes at the shiny pamphlets and blog posts
Loves
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paradoxical
the Midwest is a snake eating its own tail.
get out get out get out is the head, beating in time with the heartbeat of every new baby born in these states,
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Ocean colors
I love the way your eyes look,
making me want to dive in,
reach the depths of the shades of greens and blues of the ocean hidden behind your dark lashes.
Knowing I'd drown,
sinking to the darkest parts.
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A Tired Time
It’s a tired time we’re living in,
A tired time indeed.
We’re on the verge of giving in
To gluttony and greed.
And we say that we are fighting,Yet we haven’t changed a thing.
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When the boys grew up on sun and waves
The sun didn’t kiss these boys
It hugged them
The way you would with your best friend before
Leaving for a long time
It hugged them and
It made their skin the color of a caramel
And their hair like the sand
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tribute to emily dickinson
they have taken her.
hope.
she is trapped in the great big house made of new money & keys
that open nothing anymore. it is named america.
you can hear her,
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apple
i'll use your name. sweet nothings spill
from well-meaning mouths & shatter on concrete radiating summer sun
right back at you, perfect -- dainty -- shiny with dewdrops. they told me