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Literature Text
like a child with
too many siblings,
I hid you like
stolen chocolates
my personal
stash of guilty
pleasure
my limited
supply of forbidden
sweetness
and like a
greedy girl,
I stuffed myself
with your
goodness
and came
back for
more only
to find
you were
prepared to
give me all
I wanted
too many siblings,
I hid you like
stolen chocolates
my personal
stash of guilty
pleasure
my limited
supply of forbidden
sweetness
and like a
greedy girl,
I stuffed myself
with your
goodness
and came
back for
more only
to find
you were
prepared to
give me all
I wanted
Literature
listen.
listen,
i'd shatter the night
with my silicon lips just so you
could smell the dew drops awaiting
morning.
i'd let trickle a million drops of my
ancestry to preserve your potential.
here,
fold these tissue paper memories into
miniature cranes, tie some string to them
and let them fly you away to somewhere
filled with smiles and half-hidden secrets.
did you know,
your breath gave birth to the textures
on those exceptional silver linings?
i know,
only do i have you to thank for
and apologize to.
for breaking a part off me and taking
it with you as a keep-sake, having me
feel so much that it throbbed and rubbed
against some
Literature
Florida is making plans...
we could shape the words
however we wanted
(we were young
and running off
heart to mouth)
but for all intents & purposes
it was goodbye
it's a mixed bag of depressing
to think of throwing away entire lives
in boxes
and bits
of brokendown furniture
not to confuse purpose
with possessions
it's just that
memories have a way
of soaking through skin
(animate
and inanimate
alike)
we're all four walls
with stories to tell
this is the sorrow
and separation
the last sleepless night
in a hollowed out home
we now conclude our broadcast lives
Literature
This Poem
This poem
will be found
where you live,
somewhat short of breath,
missing an arm,
and looking
for the way
things used to be.
It will tell
the story of a dream
watching a dream.
Behind small jars
of cardamom
and bay leaf
you will catch
its scent, and,
as you move aside
a thing or two,
it will look up
with lips that purse
like an eye
to recite
all the words for blue
(which might also
be all the names
for wind, weariness,
and God).
It will tell you
what kind you have been,
recalling
the shoes you wore
when you were.
This poem
will be found
where poems always are.
Suggested Collections
Must be something about all this Christmas candy...
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