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Literature Text
a thin creek babbles
in the hush of the forest:
a collection of trees
behind suburban industry,
leaves brushing smog
hovering just below heaven
slick moss
frames gray oak arms
who cradle flecks of light
in their fingers;
mottled pebbles and loam
flirt with the current
while green shadows chase
a snake in the water
he sheds vermillion skin,
petaled scales
floating to tickle the nose
of a shy doe sipping,
bright citrine eyes
catching our movement
beside the breeze—
and she runs
while we stand, entranced.
in the hush of the forest:
a collection of trees
behind suburban industry,
leaves brushing smog
hovering just below heaven
slick moss
frames gray oak arms
who cradle flecks of light
in their fingers;
mottled pebbles and loam
flirt with the current
while green shadows chase
a snake in the water
he sheds vermillion skin,
petaled scales
floating to tickle the nose
of a shy doe sipping,
bright citrine eyes
catching our movement
beside the breeze—
and she runs
while we stand, entranced.
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Literature
Krasis
we are but remnants
of warmth, imprints
of colors;
time piranhas
to our footpaths,
our blooming forgotten
in the face of a blue moon,
autumnal harvest wreckage,
long-necked and
searching
Literature
from here to christian apology
in the end i break my teeth on the cyanide almond.
the capacity for evil is trivial and irreducible.
it is a rock in the bloodstream,
it tumbles in the purifier and never gets out.
no you can't wash this out. you can scrub & scratch yourself
into a corner through little transgressions.
they say loitering on the edge heightens one's senses
to things like pastel bricks of scarfwork
& liquor store workers who remember your name.
they say hanging up on scam calls will
cost you an earthquake. is this an earthquake?
what little love there is
slinks gently like a beanstalk
wilting on the steel fen
Literature
in retrograde
here again i name myself an elegy for soft.
the ghosts unstitching their mouths–
impossible inevitable inconsequence.
the remainder. the echo. the wake.
pared to the bone, marrow unraveled;
a web of stars racked to the machine. soft;
you dead dreamweaver. threaded-needle-tongue.
here again this slingshot orbit cups an untouched moon.
claim yourself new. become untouchable. you remember:
this reassembly, this reinvention of choice.
become a fist pressed to the apex.
cut the compass out of your mouth.
soft; unspeak yourself again. you remember:
this funeral sacrament of a stopgap creed,
vacant planet unspun to wire–
clear th
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a collaboration with the lovely , who for some reason mistook me for intimidating and professional. i am neither of those things and on that note: if anyone ever wants to collaborate, seriously--just note me a scrap and i'll work with you.
check out her version here: [link]
check out her version here: [link]
© 2013 - 2024 glossolalias
Comments8
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I used the title of this piece to create a found poem for a project going around.
[link]
[link]