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I want to fly out of myself
And soar and dive
And forget I was ever born

I want to be borne aloft
By heat and wind and rain
And the scent
Of a lilac-laced evening
In spring

I want to fly out of myself
And away
Far away
From you
Gardening involves killing
Worms
Many of them

Think
Before you dig

Are the roses
Worth
The guilt?
I was nine years old
I looked at my body
In the bathroom mirror
And crumbled to the floor
And cried
And thought
(Seriously this is what I literally told myself)
I’m falling apart
Preteen drama queen

One day I’ll peel myself off
Of that floor
I hope
The world is burning
And drowning
And trying very hard
To get rid of the infestation
We have become
And all I can think of doing
Is writing poetry or jerking off
Which I think you’ll agree
Are basically the same thing
Not intended to be crude, hope no one is offended... I wrote this a few months ago, before the pandemic, but I think it’s a good time to publish it.
Apparently now
If you end a text message with a period
It means you’re *******
Because who needs a period
When each of your utterances
Is circumscribed
By a thought bubble

At least that’s what I heard
On a podcast
(I’m an old)

So if I text you
And use punctuation
Will you take offense?

Will you be able to tell
My old-school emojis
From that punctuation?

I certainly hope so :-/
Grackles
Pecking at the lawn.
Pulling out terrified worms

Grass
Still wet from spring
Showers. Bright emerald green

Green
Sunlight hitting the blades
Just right. Backyard lushness

Grief
Already grieving for the
End of summer. Why?
I’m trying to write
Something
Something
That’s not about :
- me
- me
- me; or
- dread

I’m failing
Miserably
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