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Mnesia
F
To Stardancer... Lost somewhere... There's no reason to be concerned and I promise I won't worry while your silver stardust falls 'round my head phantom memories How far is it until I can no longer remember the curve of your smile? How many more miles until my skin forgets the warmth of your touch?
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Jun 27, 2019
Jun 27, 2019 at 12:09 PM UTC
To Stardancer...
Some days you just feel like letting go saying goodbye Other days the sunshine is so sweet you never want to die you want to live forever Today all the beautiful boys have become ***** old men and you look like a witch yourself the blackbirds still come when you toss them raisins but everyone you know is going away the cat loves you needs you and there are still friends who go on breathing you've always chosen your way now you should just chose to stay
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Apr 10, 2019
Apr 10, 2019 at 1:28 PM UTC
Seventies (70s)
She was sensitive to the variations in air pressure that announced the advancing storm Her fingers tingled when the salmon began their run back upstream The tree buds bursting out green and green more generous caused small tremblors right next to her heart or Sometimes she would dance through all the moon's cycles feeling her blood ebb and flow in tandem with the tide Earth-fall and moon-rise march in measured cadence while her even breathing echoes the song
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Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 3:08 PM UTC
The Witch
That's what I like!! Sittin' here on the floor we speak of old friends long dead put a name to the places the peacefulview cemetary thee city morgue johnson's funeral parlor ah, those were the days when there was sunshine in abundance and flowers beneath our feet you said you'd be with me forever when everyone else is gone that's the way it has been you've been with me for many years, my love your eyes are open and I'm getting used to the smell they'll never take you away from me, sweet one
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Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 1:17 PM UTC
That's What I Like
Comma kitty you syntactical ***** drop your kittens down the well drowning drowsing dreaming a dilaudid nightmare you word-whore let go your cat-gut screeching I need a song
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Nov 19, 2018
Nov 19, 2018 at 2:22 PM UTC
Comma Kitty (A few words on writer's-block)
I have a picture of a dark-eyed demon taken while he was in the act of possessing me. His sooty eyes flash atoms and electrons spiralling orbits that encircle me in his spell. On the curve of his lips there lie incantations and magic words that lead me on deep into the dark forest where witches and warlocks dance naked around a leaping fire. He watches me and I can see myself through his dark eyes as I join in the magic circle. My own eyes are squeezed tight afraid of what is all around me. But I see it all through his strange sight. Dark-eyed demon teeth flash in the sullen night as he smiles on me. My demon comes to me in the nighttime rattling my lonely bed and I hear his howsl echo through the empty house, fearful cries that stir me to placate his demon-ness with my willing sacrifice.
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Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 3:00 PM UTC
Dark-Eyed Demon
haunt empty mirrors Pastel fingertips trace lipless smiles eyeliners and mascaras circumscribe vacancies These women do not suckle babies They do not write books or poetry They never read the editorial pages Their husbands never get hard-ons except when they ********** The women are glad Their hair won't be rumpled and the sheets won't be stained They rise early in the morning apply honeysuckle or springbreeze vaginal sprays and polish their mirrors When the windows of their houses melt they turn up the air conditioning When their men leave them they shore up sagging ******* reclaim their virginity by its loss practice pouts and pirouettes to perfection The moon is their enemy Another presidential election means more wrinkles, more grey hairs means nothing on TV and they have to fold up into themselves, a lonely place where the mirror is the mind
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Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 3:16 PM UTC
Women Who Have Forgotten Their Faces
The Ice Man has shattered eyes shards of ice for his soul his passions burn cold no flame only pain The Ice Man cannot hold me and will not let me hold him
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Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 2:30 PM UTC
The Ice Man
Cerise dyed her hair blonde in a strip running from a point midway abover her eyes, straight back, medially bisecting her head. Why not? Her witchcraft encounter group encouraged her to go for it and certain signs suspiciously converged on that particular crystal moment when she saw the Frost-N-Glow on the supermarket shelf. A self-correcting anomaly caused a bag boy to stumble in aisle two as he hurried to the break room. Three doors down at the drug store all the pills rattled in their bottles although nobody noticed. After it was done, she soon tired of twisting her hair into new directions and out of boredom she picked up her phone and dialed her own number, expecting some satisfaction in knowing that her phone was busy. To her surprise, the call went through. It rang twice andwas picked up by a young-sounding man who acted as if it were his own phone he'd answered. Of course, The cosmic Ga-Ga had it all planned out. True, he was often less-tham-subtle but a brick wall was frequently sufficient in closing off paths of chance and more sure than a feather duster. Very few feather dusters have stopped a man from keeping an appointment that set his path in life. This was all The Ga-Ga's job. Lost car keys, premonitionary dreams some days he had to search long and hard for just the right number of Sunday drivers to let loose on Monday morning rush hour. It was no easy job. Cerise ended up at city hall, shouting about the monsters in the walls. Her job was not easy either.
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Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 2:52 PM UTC
Cerise and the Cosmic Ga-Ga
Cerise dyed her hair blonde in a strip running from a point midway abover her eyes, straight back, medially bisecting her head. Why not? Her witchcraft encounter group encouraged her to go for it and certain signs suspiciously converged on that particular crystal moment when she saw the Frost-N-Glow on the supermarket shelf. A self-correcting anomaly caused a bag boy to stumble in aisle two as he hurried to the break room. Three doors down at the drug store all the pills rattled in their bottles although nobody noticed. After it was done, she soon tired of twisting her hair into new directions and out of boredom she picked up her phone and dialed her own number, expecting some satisfaction in knowing that her phone was busy. To her surprise, the call went through. It rang twice andwas picked up by a young-sounding man who acted as if it were his own phone he'd answered. Of course, The cosmic Ga-Ga had it all planned out. True, he was often less-tham-subtle but a brick wall was frequently sufficient in closing off paths of chance and more sure than a feather duster. Very few feather dusters have stopped a man from keeping an appointment that set his path in life. This was all The Ga-Ga's job. Lost car keys, premonitionary dreams some days he had to search long and hard for just the right number of Sunday drivers to let loose on Monday morning rush hour. It was no easy job. Cerise ended up at city hall, shouting about the monsters in the walls. Her job was not easy either.
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I have become lost in the sanctity of fresh-baked bread its scent evict my tenuous presence the house is filled with all the days of the past and memories of all the strong fingers that have worked the dough my hair smells of yeast and I have been delivered to my enemies my hands are stained with the stigmata of floury dough caked flaky and a cheerful smudge on the tip of my nose marks me forever the subject of history
0
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 3:39 PM UTC
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