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Literature Text
worms they said,
worm like wood they said
in the underbelly of her bonds,
in the something we termed domestic
we termed it pet and we termed it love
we termed it a virtue, anything a virtue.
we terminated her ill our relation ships
the vessels that will carry these mites they
breast stroke like the Monarchs,
and hang-glide the dolphins arch,
the dog just will not make it they said
and every bitch has its day
so make love they said
with the sweat of the sun,
with the pillows of the pavement.
somehow we will make it
so they said.
so I said I love you in panic,
I love you under a busted fire hydrants shower.
remember? in the rain dance of the streets
we screamed all the way into the sun rise before
I said I love you in the entropy of our relationship,
in the viscosity of our relationship.
remember me in you and
in the way the first I love you
never comes fast enough.
you.
you never came fast enough,
but me,
I came in multiples of c
bending as I approached your horizon
relative to the way the daisies bent wild for us
just like the day the waves washed over us
melting into them as we moved like molten molasses
remember? when you said,
"the only way of life is to love dangerously
from a distance."
and so now you bark glow worms and you whimper
as easy as a warm summer breeze in Tennessee
and you howl that even the stars,
even the stars,
are not forever.
worm like wood they said
in the underbelly of her bonds,
in the something we termed domestic
we termed it pet and we termed it love
we termed it a virtue, anything a virtue.
we terminated her ill our relation ships
the vessels that will carry these mites they
breast stroke like the Monarchs,
and hang-glide the dolphins arch,
the dog just will not make it they said
and every bitch has its day
so make love they said
with the sweat of the sun,
with the pillows of the pavement.
somehow we will make it
so they said.
so I said I love you in panic,
I love you under a busted fire hydrants shower.
remember? in the rain dance of the streets
we screamed all the way into the sun rise before
I said I love you in the entropy of our relationship,
in the viscosity of our relationship.
remember me in you and
in the way the first I love you
never comes fast enough.
you.
you never came fast enough,
but me,
I came in multiples of c
bending as I approached your horizon
relative to the way the daisies bent wild for us
just like the day the waves washed over us
melting into them as we moved like molten molasses
remember? when you said,
"the only way of life is to love dangerously
from a distance."
and so now you bark glow worms and you whimper
as easy as a warm summer breeze in Tennessee
and you howl that even the stars,
even the stars,
are not forever.
Literature
Justifications and Salted Smiles
"I don't think I'm holding on any longer
I'm diving in.
I wish that you would see,
there's a magical land at the bottom of the ocean
where waterproof lungs let you be
everything you've dreamed.
You can bury underneath the sand
and not be found-
it's the land that's been promised to me
in late night whispers
and burnt tears
wasted on things that don't matter.
I know it's real,
broken minds can't lie
and I can feel it in my bones-
there's something more.
What other reasons would we live for?
They say you inhale saltwater
and exhale enlightenment.
The waves pour over you
and finally make you clean (pure)
No one knows where y
Literature
i) Wanderlust
i),
The first time I met the girl who started a revolution the sky was throwing down so much rain it felt like we were underwater. It was hard to breathe; and maybe that was because of all the rain, but probably it was because I looked at her face, under this dark red hood, and inside I was a story with all these feelings I could never say. I guess those feelings could only ever become words on paper - words in ink - not the kind I could ever speak aloud to anybody, if only because I couldn't bear for a person to see the look on my face while I remembered. Despite how good it felt - so hopeful, so desperately happy for what it was and could
Literature
The Best is Yet to Come
if we grow old
there will be a sigh
an attention to the change
as your muscles slacken underneath
your faded, favorite shirt
the one that's threadbare, "holy"
in a sense less than divine
I'll have washed it for
the thousandth time
our eyes will crinkle, wrinkle
in ways that start to match
and we'll hold hands and ask:
when did the nerves and veins
begin to let our hands get cold?
-if we grow old
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I've been trimming my hedges.
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Comments13
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this has been tweeted on "NortreForteresse"
beautiful piece
beautiful piece