Posts
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Bike Week- a Big ol’ Florida Memoir
Still light, yellow. Temples faced at the sky, the church of recollection echoes with ‘Old Florida’ shrimp spices. Gasoline and salty motorcycles revv by with the pattern of pulse in my neck.
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Conglomeration Vacation
Four swimming pools deep and
the chocolate is so rich its making
me think
sundresses.
I can spin,
but your blind until you pick up
your pen
day one
day five
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shade moon dust
My skin can flake onto my hands, caked like a cracking wall. The muse buried under sets of eyes staring at the colors on my face, not melanin but thick water-based acrylic paint that created some monster dolled up as a woman.
Loves
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Eternal Serenity - Sijo Poetry
Clouds fixed in settled explosions of amber and saffron
Clement winds tossing seaweed on the toasted flaxen sand
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january to july
in the months of darkness and cold, i never stopped writing.
i just kept it all to myself. every night, my own religion
pages of pen poised on paper, pouring my heart out
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New Polaroids
Amber leaves cling
To umber trees reaching
Frayed roots deep into the ground.
They've told you time
And time again, "autumn is the season
Of the dead.
Green leaves rusting, flowers
Dusting over till the pink -
catharsis
i am trapped in that broken state of consciousness
between sleep and wake
where the rest and rem comes from a deeper sort of aching need
fullfilled
in the early hours of time
branches shift against your window,