Posts
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fourth of july and i have to remind myself that
they're scared.
that's it.
they: shout misspelled arguments in all caps send soldiers to peaceful
protests yell into microphones turned all the way up shut down dissent
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prescription (go sailing)
sometimes i think just one sunny day would cure me of everything.
other days i think pills and tonics and treatments are lies that i continue to swallow.
most days i just daydream about last summer when our tiny sunfish
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somewhere in new zealand with a bowl of pasta
for a friend
i picture you some days – a utensil in one hand and your cheek
in the other, gazing somewhere in the distance as your
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Connections
submission for next year's prompts:
Use the NY Times Connections as a writing prompt! Take all 16 or one line of the words generated in there (before it's been solved) and use them in a poem or short story.
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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
Loves
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The Words Aren't What I Want
My eyelids stay together
every blink
a little longer than usual wishing
I were still asleep
I don't remember not sleeping
last night
but I guess
that's just the way it is
first block
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fermata
I sob for
something I think I
hate, but cry "no no no"
when asked if I
want to quit.
Because I just can't.
There is no
possible way
that I could quit.
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Untitled Haiku
Mama/an eagle.
We/weasels/deer in headlights.
She flies on. We stay. -
Faded peace
The red truck blue truck cap
Bright blue, not pretty
Like dancing eyes no
This is down to business blue eyes hardened
After too many people said no
After too many yesses didn’t work out
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space between two lines
Conflict causes crazy
crisis, confuses me
until I'm numb.
Don't know what
I desire, asking the
question, "who am I, really?"
because I really want to know.
People's perceptions poke
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Truth Telling
We manifest our fear in our hands, as physical things; sometimes it pricks at our skin and leaves marks, sometimes it results in stiff fingers, cracking from a stiffened clench.