Category: Poetry
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Barren
From the woven fabric of my yellow shirt I discover I’m a messenger. Carrying seed through the day’s reach point to point street to street a small life clings – a burr on a wing Cactus, poppy, weed? Pluck it off, I’m unfit for Spring
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Untitled affairs
In what universe could we exist the way we did – bumping our shadows together like flint? pressing the amber mosquito that bled us dry? We preserved nothing – made no walls tools rules We created nothing – made no paths or porch lights calling us home. My tongue leeched your tongue – a dying…
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Baring myself
I want to be brave. I want to take self-portraits walking down the street, listening to music – the white cords framing my face – the sun in my eyes, the blue and palm trees quilling. I want to send them to you so you remember I exist. Out there in a world away from…
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Spring: the loose woman
I don’t remember the trees having this many shadows. Long teeth cutting the concrete. I walk under the branches and through their mouths. Spring has come to me early. I didn’t have to run or wade through the cold for long. Above me blossoms smell like a woman’s insides. Fertile and falling softly to the…
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Days after
The fog parts, but you’re still foggy. And tired. Floating on churned water into a realm that blends sea/sky. There are no distinct lines. Sliced wood drifts by. Then a drowning chest, an oar. And behind you the entire ship is a battled body. You set sail years before bound by duty. There is nothing…
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Fireweed
Over miles, I scatter the ashes of someone once loved. You are wind and need – stay that way: Elusive, untouched but touch only me. I’ll let you linger against my skin just long enough to create one scar. Then I’ll release you, watching you crash into light like a moth – proof that all…
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I love you, New York
I’ve come back from the city like a wild animal. Hungry still, but only for the taste of it, not because I need it filling my body. It’s become obvious to me what I need to survive and I need very little. The city is a substance. I abuse it. And like a newly washed…
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Stationary at Midnight
From my car’s backseat you dip a cigarette into the night’s pool ash flakes away like skin the way people tiptoe into dust in corner cracks. Someday we’ll all leave each other and I’ll never know what your eyes are trailing – Some deep forested mirage leading a path away from these soldiering lights. We’re…
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Bookmark
This morning, I woke up with the “5 Dollar Foot Long” jingle stuck in my head. Was I dreaming of Meatball subs? I wonder if I don’t need you anymore or that’s just what I’m telling myself because it’s clear you don’t need me. A self-preservation sort of thing. I broke a newly manicured nail…