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Cyan 2d
What sorts of
waterbugs
still creep in the cracks
where you grew up,
and do they remember
your name
or the color of your
bedroom
walls?
Cyan Sep 11
Moonlight moves in an unnatural way
on the surface of the river.

As on any body of water
illuminated by moonlight,
reflections shift
and change with the ripples,
but these lights seem to leap
and spring as though
they were filled with some sort of life,
diving in and out of the ripples
with intentional motions.

They chase each other through
minuscule waves,
playfully,
intelligently.

And when the reach the shore,
they shiver in the cold
and shake the water from their coats,
spraying fluid silver everywhere
as they bound
and disappear into the grass
on the bank.
Cyan Sep 6
A creature of habit
sits in the same corner
every other night,
the only variance
being between
5.4%-8.6%
Cyan Sep 3
We seem to write
A narrow beauty of skin,
For in reality,
How many of our lovers
Are porcelain pale
And petal soft?

Instead,

I’ll chant exaltations
Of goosebumps
And the scar on your right shoulder.
Behold and bathe
In stretch marks
And acne bumped and pitted cheeks
Shriek sonnets to
Your body hair
And the callouses on your palms.

Sing psalms
To your rough texture
And how I relish every uneven inch
Of your skin
So warm,
So,
So-called
Flawed,

Because God
Or whatever’s up there
Carved you in this form
I fell in love with.

Why make you
Into a marble statue
And pretend that stony David
Was greater than the poet,
The lion slayer,
The king,
The very flawed and human man?

I’ll stand
And challenge that direction
For if we pretend perfection
Is what we desire,
We’ll never reach higher
Than our fingertips.

But your chapped lips
Lift me to the skies
Where all earth’s vanities
Can’t flood my eyes,
And I see clearly
You and me,
In Eden
Wearing nothing
But skin.
Cyan Sep 2
Sinking in a pool or lake
makes for a quick escape,
but all you get in the end
are water-logged lungs.

Death by amber sap
may be slower suffocation,
but leaves you, a shining jewel, behind
in orange-yellow tinted coffin.
Cyan Sep 1
History’s a cycle,
an idea once used,
we recycle,
everything humanity could peddle
but plastic.
  Aug 31 Cyan
Traveler
I know it to be true
The gods have chosen
Me to be blue
I know it to be real
The blessings of the gods
  Is the hell I feel...
I travel through time
What a lapse
Upon ones mind
But I’ll remember
In due time
The love that we shared
That is
If the gods would let me
One last time
Come up for air....
............
TT
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