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Literature Text
I'm ready for a romance to ravage my heart and tear apart my
dusty limbs, I'm waiting for someone to take my breath and
never give it back; I'm prepared to sell all I was for a trip
somewhere new - beyond the paper mistakes I sailed away
down the river long ago. (even rocks and leaden thoughts
won't let the truth sink.)
I left my being somewhere under a waning summer sun
when the trees hummed melodies of moving on;
my soul still stays there, porous and pining and
lost. Dying stars don't lead home.
I suppose
it's more than just losing
your words, it's losing
you
too.
I am someone who mourns Sunday morning for another lost
week. I am weak, I am of mice and the men who cower
beneath compromisable truths. I have already
made more mistakes than loose fingers in
two days and a little breathing room.
I am not special. I am the worst
kind of normal, and further
more, I am sorry.
I am me.
dusty limbs, I'm waiting for someone to take my breath and
never give it back; I'm prepared to sell all I was for a trip
somewhere new - beyond the paper mistakes I sailed away
down the river long ago. (even rocks and leaden thoughts
won't let the truth sink.)
I left my being somewhere under a waning summer sun
when the trees hummed melodies of moving on;
my soul still stays there, porous and pining and
lost. Dying stars don't lead home.
I suppose
it's more than just losing
your words, it's losing
you
too.
I am someone who mourns Sunday morning for another lost
week. I am weak, I am of mice and the men who cower
beneath compromisable truths. I have already
made more mistakes than loose fingers in
two days and a little breathing room.
I am not special. I am the worst
kind of normal, and further
more, I am sorry.
I am me.
Literature
.
i avoid the eyes of people when i'm nervous
stare at spaces in between their eyelids
and let the conversation fade
or dissolve.
i don't know where to let my eyes rest
when you appear
in my head
around my bones
there's nowhere to look
except through you
Literature
Some Wonderful
When I browse the index of
"things they never told me,"
I like to rest my fingertip on
"seemingly insignificant moments
tend to matter most."
I'm ignoring all the formal portraits
for the candids.
You admiring the cobblestones
(we thought they were originals)
in the old end of Boston,
picking out what houses were made
of colonial brick,
and which weren't.
Kissing my shoulder
as I tried to write,
which kidnapped my words
but I couldn't be angry.
Your expression when
you caught me sneaking a snapshot
at the restaurant
that you didn't want saved,
(or sent to your mother.)
While I can still remember
exactly what you wore
the first time we
Literature
Zemi
Things having to be returned to their transparency:
i.
/ green mist-earth / knit
atmosphere / fathomless
blue-lavender / lights
spun out from light
ii.
are recalcitrance / and you
are convergence
& - a fingernail of summer
- a melting of rain
- a crown of flowers
- a priest of sunsets
(beautiful? I love you, because. Zemi.
Zemi. are you beautiful because I love
you? Zemi? )
iii.
I imagine this is what it's like to breathe sea foam
over the Cliffs of Moher: hydration. absolution.
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Comments41
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That last stanza so painfully yet refreshingly honest.
(but you are special!!)
(but you are special!!)