Posts
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Creating a God
I am still determining who You are. This is similar to religion.
You do not have to be bone under flesh under clothes;
You can be the questions I ask when I am the only one in the room. -
Family Totem
The gum sends down a burn to my throat,
I argue with myself if I love it or not.
Its spice is grown from lifeless pleasure,
and distaste has become a full dinner.
Is the rush to my head still worth it?
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Men and Dogs
“Men are dogs,” I say to my friend as she kneels at the foot of her bed, like a child waiting for her mother’s strong arms. Yet, I am her friend tonight, so my scrawny arms make a cheap cradle.
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Hopelessness is an Unplucked Apple
Galore are the hung fruits.
Their ample flesh and roundness;
their cherub cheeks reddened
from the pinching of a breeze.
They are tapered to branches
dangling perfectly, prostituted
for their flavorful innards.
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Fall is a Queen Bee
In the crisp embrace of my russet leaf patch,
a Queen Bee reigns supreme, Her presence unmatched.
Her saintly swarm rustles me, yet I am blessed,
for She brings forth the chilly scent of ember rest. -
Fourth Day of Sun (Her Someday Has Come)
In the prior Autumn, the air smelled of leaf carcasses
and her abundant unused potential.
In efforts to cope she wrote of downpours,
breakup boots, and predicted wasted experiences.
She rebelled against her own sense of self, yet
Loves
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Counting Flowers
I rang the doorbell to your heart,
and throughout your house it rang,
a bouquet of astilbes in one hand
and in the other a pink dove.
I carved it of cherry wood just for you,
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Perfect, Perfection, Perfectly
Perfect
I know I'll never reach
Perfection
No matter how hard I try
I can do better
I have to do better
I have planned out
The next 12 years
The college I'll go to
My grad school
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My Girlfriend
I feel her bracelet cold on my wrist
I taste the coffee bitter in my mouth
I smell her perfume drifting in the air
I see her standing over me, strong and beautiful
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shapes
circle: the roundedness of a
marshmallow spent too long in your pocket,
meant for my mouth; the almost-perfect
eternity
of your fingernail as you traced my collarbone
remarking how winglike our shoulders were;