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Cana Oct 4
It’s a strange muse, this murderous blue.
So many drawn to her splendor
So many drawn to their death
I ran out of words to describe her beauty. But needed to remember how dangerous beauty can be
  Aug 3 Cana
Sara Teasdale
I am not sorry for my soul
That it must go unsatisfied,
For it can live a thousand times,
Eternity is deep and wide.

I am not sorry for my soul,
But oh, my body that must go
Back to a little drift of dust
Without the joy it longed to know.
Cana May 20
The bird songs ring out harmonious
Their calls for some wanton *******,
The best type.
Reciprocated across the landscape
Which is not the right word
There’s more sea here than land.
an orange hangs low in the lonely sky
Perfectly ripe,
Dripping wet with honeyed shades of gold,
Coating palm trees and my knees.
Also my cigarette box and my coffee mug. A slow swell pitching and yawing,  
a side to side appreciated only by those trying to sleep.
A breeze lazier than I licks my cheeks and fondles my thighs.
It’s time, to go.
Morning world
Cana Apr 15
The blue and white woven thread
Sits comfortably close
tasseled ends exotic
clinging seductively
Falling too easily.
Who needs pants?
Cana Mar 7
I have a set of words,
I don’t know how to say.
They’ve been lost and jumbled,
Scattered to the tides, stolen by ****** mermaids
I have to catch them, before the elements.
Should even one of those fragile blades
Wash upon your shore.
Then the wall would be thickest,
A Medieval palisade.
I was looking to stumble. Through.
Cana Jan 24
Surprisingly the dusted air
does not bring a gritty mouth?
It seeps sandy, into the recesses of skyscrapers,
gives bright blue pools a poxy composure.
Its probably why the buildings aren't white
but not why my teeth aren't

It's accompanied by muted roars,
a cacophony of humanity in the near and far.
Indians eating Ethiopian,
Pakistanis driving Chinese cars,
Arabs shopping at Bloomingdales,
Filipinos Filipinoing.

A city that embodies the glittering gold
of empty flats and abandoned offices,
the cushion covered loungers
and the overwhelming urge to jump
from the 26th floor balcony.

A squinted eye admires the Burjes.
A shielded glance is spared for the Mosques.
Their brilliance is solar, my sunglasses game is weak
and my neck is starting to get sore.
Its quite the marvel
Cana Jan 15
Nothing holds the combined spectrum of human emotion
so openly, easily and blatantly as Airport carpets
Excited sad trepidation love loneliness happiness...all of them
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