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Mike Rollain May 2016
Its fire is a beacon
An alarmingly bright disruption

I'd grown numb to the constants

Burned by discovery
I'd retreated into comfort

But even as I adhered to these tired laws
She was examining them

Splitting them apart and transforming them
Every action with hot determination

I feared for her demise
As if it had already taken place

But she is not the spacial divide
Her wounds will cool with time

She is never fully discovered

And space is not the same as distance
The end is never the end

There is no such change as death
Only the subtlest shift in time

And a choice to see her through it
JM Romig Apr 2014
He pairs kinds of rain with kinds of jazz
like some folks do with wine and cheese.

He says a thunderstorm goes best with bebop
Especially if you can time the record just right
for the drums to explode just as the sky does

He says free jazz is for those unpredictable days,
where the rain keeps coming,
but will ebb and flow at it's own pace

He says a light Sunday drizzle is the perfect time
to pull out Miles Davis' Birth of the Cool,
and sip slowly on the moment

I think he may be a synesthete.
NaPoWriMo 21/30

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