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Literature Text
Some mornings I can feel
your lips pressed to my forehead,
and when I pull closer I wake
to empty blankets.
That's when I roll onto my back
and close my eyes tighter
to will your form next to me,
though wishful thinking
never made anybody materialize before.
I always hope I'll be the first to manage it.
I have walked with you in dreaming
ten years on and off,
and you found me by chance in words.
We loved without meeting for
seven months.
Why shouldn't my mind
conjure you here?
For that's most of what we were,
dreams and words,
before you ventured to me.
If I could hold out to holding you,
I should be able to will you here.
We've waited long enough,
it's only fair...
though I suppose that,
while it defies the brain
and sometimes the body it serves,
the heart must at least
obey laws of science.
So I'll unclench my eyes
and roll onto my side,
as I hold onto dreaming
until you're here.
your lips pressed to my forehead,
and when I pull closer I wake
to empty blankets.
That's when I roll onto my back
and close my eyes tighter
to will your form next to me,
though wishful thinking
never made anybody materialize before.
I always hope I'll be the first to manage it.
I have walked with you in dreaming
ten years on and off,
and you found me by chance in words.
We loved without meeting for
seven months.
Why shouldn't my mind
conjure you here?
For that's most of what we were,
dreams and words,
before you ventured to me.
If I could hold out to holding you,
I should be able to will you here.
We've waited long enough,
it's only fair...
though I suppose that,
while it defies the brain
and sometimes the body it serves,
the heart must at least
obey laws of science.
So I'll unclench my eyes
and roll onto my side,
as I hold onto dreaming
until you're here.
Literature
reminiscence
someday we won't remember this
no one will, not the dirt or stars,
not the dust scattered when a sun
dies and the universe swallows its birth
not the men who wasted lives
proving theories long debunked or
the whores leaning in doorways to fuck
soldiers who won't come home
and no one will remember the dog
hit on route sixty-three, the first guts
i saw glistening in summer heat
just as no one remembers i was the kid
they called to crack open the fire hydrant
because no one else could and they
shrieked, soaked in water no one remembers,
soaked in water that could have saved lives,
water circling into the sewer,
waste no one
rememb
Literature
I hope you are reading this
the person I love loves music much too much
and the person I love loves that I love the quiet and easy days
loves that I like to stay up late (or early) till the birds sing of morning and
the person I love loves that I love to hold hands and hold a body but only when I know them fully
and the person I love loves listening to my songs and listening to my voice and to my poetry and stories
the person I love has songs to share too and a voice that melts my heart and words that mold it back into something nostalgia old and inspired new
and the person I love loves to look around and take it in once in a while and wonders why we can’t just r
Literature
Forward
She ran faster with clipped wings.
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