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Music
subtle at first
as if played from another room
then firm, elastic
noise like white light and the
dank smell of a forest
burnt to the ground
a sound so pungent we had
to cover our mouths to keep
from screaming
a pain so undecided
there was enough to go around
the walls were red by the end
we sighed in rhythm
and emptied ourselves out
into the night streets
The Thing I Don’t Want to Remember
it sat there abandoned
lonely,
a stale drink left out all night,
a Tahitian dress for the mistress,
a claw eagerly waiting for its
victim,
that flaw that
stares at you in the glass,
a tunnel underneath the passage
to your mind,
forced to be one thing, yet
pointing in fourteen directions
saying,
I am that monster and I am
waiting for your touch.
today the world stopped turning
for a minute
I floated in mid-air and
contemplated my errors
as I started to fly into darkness
it no longer mattered
that was earth I was hurling from
a world that could no longer burden me
with her warming or wars
empty complaints that make me turn in my sleep
recalled late nights I stayed up and
heard my brain wander into space
imagining the possibilities
now she is only a speck and I wonder
what life could have been
light years away I blow kisses
at the earth like an old lover
and remember what she used to look like
blue, green and shadow
darkness permitting
I dance in my new freedom
the air is so calm
star in my hand it skips
like a smooth lake at dawn
Grass
they stood as brothers
each one only slightly
greener than the other
they all welcomed the sun
and a new day with a fond sway
they had no idea of the world
that surrounded them
and they grew to only
mildly care when stepped on
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