Posts
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how the wind blows over the river
how the wind blows over the river
quite a curious thing, isn’t it,
the way the water rolls in time
with the wind’s hushed music
that echoes
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Definition
in (prefix):
not
(not what?
not right, not here,
not true, not what?
come on,
dictionary,
be specific.)
subordinate (adjective):
placed in,
or occupying
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suicidal robin
robin,
oh robin,
do you hear the window scream
each time your sunshine-tipped beak
tries to kill its silvery panes?
robin,
oh robin,
do you see the tiny cracks spiderwebbing,
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eclipse
the moon's silvery-gray hair
falls in shadows across her face
her pupils waxing and waning
straining
to catch a glimpse of her girl,
her beauty, her sunshine
her pale lips remembering cinnamon warmth
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April Snows
it is april 4
the official beginning of spring is long past us
vermont was ready for spring before that,
our grayish-green sunlit adirondacks forcing the clouds
to hold in their snow and rain and part
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the snow is falling
the snow is falling
thick
too slow and yet too fast
everything is muffled
sound limited to the soft thumps of trees shaking the snow from their bare arms
i have somehow sunk to my knees
Loves
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What They Call Ghetto, We Call Home
They call it “the hood.”
We call it family.
They call it “ghetto.”
We call it culture.
It’s loud — but it’s home.
The ice cream truck rings at the same time every day.
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The Girl With Too Much Passion
Once upon a time you were the girl with too much passion.
You tried your very hardest to be in love with the world,
and it made you beautiful.
But you lost that person to love,
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Somewhere in the woods
Somewhere in the woods generations in the past, there was a person who wanted to build a life for themselves. So they bravely ventured into a land of great cedar and oak, which they thought could bear fruit all year long.
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I Am Someone Who
I am someone who is waiting on a dock in the middle of the night. There is a gross, green electric light shining on me. There is something out in the waves.
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the waiting place is a tea store on sunday
中午 At 12:00 pm you walk into the tea store that lies just above the edges of your consciousness, embalm your tongue with the scent of green tea and honey.
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Sentimentality
Sentimentality
all the time
wishing to be younger
to be somewhere else.
I wish that I was in fourth grade again
and everyone was friends
and everyone was happy and content