Posts
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τό καλόν, τό ἀληθές, τό ἀγαθόν (Transedentals)
The woman wears her skin
like a bathrobe.
She stands in the middle
of a golden field,
weeping fresh water.
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The Storm's Eye
The sky
blows in more snow,
a breath
from frozen elsewhere.
There is a storm
raging
inside the silent rage
of the storm,
inside God’s eye,
unopened.
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Cubism
‘"With your pictures you apparently want to arouse in us a feeling of having to swallow rope or drink kerosene.”
– Braque to Picasso
Maybe it’s as simple as this:
Maybe God’s hundredth name is His face. -
At the Altar
Oh Lord of Windows,
Oh Window,
Oh Mirror with Drawn Curtains,
maybe if I keep tapping,
keep drumming my fingers on your altar,
you’ll wake up. Maybe -
The Farmer's Market
my uncle grabbed a bag
of fiddleheads,
tender beginnings,
at the farmer’s market,
said he was going
to fry them
with honey, pink-
peppercorn, and salt.
the farmers bring dirt -
Mixed Metaphors Chapter 1
A light mist was pouring in off the Caspian sea. I closed my click, sighing into the dark as I pulled on a yellow, wide-legged, vinyl jumpsuit.
Loves
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A Whole Lot of Khaki
It was roughly ten hours too early for Private First Class James C. Bartholomew to be marching.
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To Fall Into a Book
Never have I ever
Ridden a horse
Fallen in love
Flown on clouds
Worn dresses of silk
Met elves
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The War Anomaly
“Tho’ Nature, red in tooth and claw / With ravine, shriek’d against / his creed—” - Lord Alfred Tennyson
Yes, you are a Man!
You, sir, are no beast, so
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Sacred Holy Dream
Yes, Alice thought as she drifted deeper into sleep from within that lightless and beautiful place, make it stranger now. Make it all new again.
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Blue Sky Drowning
There is // no tomorrow // blue sky drowning and leftover questions // through the snow, an end is distinguished // where so many divert their paths, paving into the ground // ice is all that’s left, this is how the cliff is found // if
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Albatross
Big feathered wings
Almost alone
In the middle of the ocean
Soaring through the sky
Or maybe swimming through the waves