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Racing vectors,
a taste of pause.
Trajectories congregate
over darkness and bitter.


Looking over
argue and laughter,
through their smiles
is a distance in miles.

Solitary and rest
blanket lonesome
in the company of


A pause,
it's all it takes.

To peer around
these cobbled walls,
pieced together by
nuanced pitfalls,

to find other alike.

With a peek they
look over their own,
past and beyond,

their darkness and bitter.

I raise my cup
and take a

Mac Baker Jan 5
Tracing edges,
seeking frame.
Emerging sight
adores symmetry.

Perfection lives
in outlines drawn
at first light.

But transparent forms
held together
with Razor seams

are frangible


How it hurts at first,
to see the cracks.

Looking honestly,
passing glass
and into gaps.

Find yourself where
sketches give way
and translucency
gives to accuracy.

Because beauty
doesn’t live in
vacant forms.

It shatters borders
while it screams

to be Seen.
Fill your vision
and then look to
what lies beyond.
Mac Baker Dec 2019
Look now
at Fingers
cast along plain

As a dying Light
settles into the horizon
Fingers become Flood

Creeping Blackness
consumes landscape
until it’s exposed

Once the eye
and heart

Its easy to see

darkness only exists
on the border of Light
Mac Baker Dec 2019
Two truths in parallel.
        One of Duty.
                The other, Tender.
Their parallel nature
        Makes them seem tangled,
But Love and Commitment are not one.
        Two truths separated by Self.
                Sacrifice that and
weave truths around what remains.
        Because ropes
                are stronger than
                        unruly knots.
Mac Baker Dec 2019
Eyes swell
Depths growl.
Given long enough,
symptoms abbreviate.
But want is toxic
and acid doesn’t
care for neglect.
Sometimes we live so long
that we forget what it feels
to Have.
Mac Baker Dec 2019
It caught once.

Not lines of blue,
such crashes of hue.

It was small, the spark.
And alight, the bark.

What comes after?

My house, a cinder.
When we re-build in concrete,
how do we catch complete?
Mac Baker Dec 2019
The room is empty but not vacant.
She is curled,
a density without

When the ring comes,
It is felt by
a thread that tried at
Something else

In the empty
that something else...

Your call is a reminder
Of how we moved

But you can’t pull the weightless

Don’t you see?
When we moved
You moved something foreign.
B., I hope it's not so
as I think it is.
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