5 tagged with #poetry

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scraps


and the same moon rises night after night
the rivers always flow to the sea
the sun will return tomorrow
i'll never be lost for long
i'll never be lost for long

---

this slow, pattering rain continues forever.

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28 March 2018 22:51


pool


rocks
thrown at the water
will break the surface
and sink to the bottom
joining
other offerings
projectiles
lost goods

water supports the buoyant
water fills all available space
left alone, water remains steady
but slowly stagnates

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08 March 2018 21:56


vicious cycle


4 september, 2008

i have a tendency to make my presence known,
except when i don't and
decide to take the bus to altoona.
isolation in the middle of nowhere.
to a place where my face is unknown.
i won't feel obligated to return
greetings from people i don't recognize,
when they surely recognize me
because i have a tendency to make my presence known
when they surely recognize me.
greetings from people i don't recognize.
i won't feel obligated to return
to a place where my face is unknown.
isolation in the middle of nowhere.
decide to take a bus to altoona,
except when i don't and
i have a tendency to make my presence known.

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20 November 2016 20:43


the dog whisperer


8 september 2008

I dreamt that you stood at the gates of your city,
a pack of dogs at your heels.
The streets behind you were laid to waste,
and a line of people-constructs stretched along the road.

One by one, the constructs approached you,
and you allowed the dogs to sniff the hollowed-bodies.

One by one, the dogs tore the constructs to shreds,
and you spoke to them without moving your lips.

I alone faced you, my nose heavy with canine musk.
And when you looked me in the eye, I turned and walked away.

Permalink
20 November 2016 20:42


last


some days i am the wind that whistles through the trees;
some days i am the leaf it brings to the river;
some days i am the water that carries it downstream;
some days i am the rock around which it passes.

some days i am the moth alighting,
desperately drying,
eyes ever turned to the missing moon.

my cheek freezes to the inside of the mask,
and i bow my head with the sprouts
succumbing to layers of ice.

the imperative is to last.

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16 February 2015 19:33


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