Posts
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America's Pastime
They call it America’s pastime,
a field of white lines
drawn like promises on green grass.A bat rises
like hope in the hands of someone
taught to believe in chances. -
Ice Cream's Innocence
Today I watched a child smile
small, easy, innocent.A face that has not yet learned
what the world can take and give. -
I yelled at my Father
I yelled at my father.
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somewhere I cannot go.
She is going somewhere
I can hear it
in the way the house pauses
when she gently glides through it,
as if even the torn walls
are trying to find her. -
Societal grief
I sit in polished classrooms
behind gates and old brick walls,
arriving in quiet cars
that glide past the lines outside.
Loves
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Feel
When I met a girl on Omegle who read me like three incoherent, handwritten, multi-page love poems
I think that's what it means to feel something
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There was an ice raid in the area
and it was the tensest last period class I've ever been in. Well, for me, at least,
and maybe only for me - when the announcement came on to secure
the school, no going outside, continue as normal,
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I used to know you
I used to know you
every little kink in your brain
how your eyes would flash when you were upset
and your glasses reflected your anger
you were an open book to me
and I can still read it - here's the hard part
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Somewhere to Live, Someone to Love
There’s a place I want to live
And someone I want to love
I want to live in a place
So full of joy
That it fills me too
So full of people
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musings of an unrefined philosopher
I am a poet. I take the words and I turn them on their heads until the juice runs out. It is red and sweet, like strawberries. I sit cross-legged on lilypads, watching meaning watercolor itself onto the pond. I rust like clockwork in the rain.
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Harveys
There was a man who worked on the corner of Bellevue and St. James six days a week, who only came out at dusk to have a smoke. I usually saw him from a distance, across from the park. He was weary, very weary.