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 Jul 2018 OC
Ciel Noir
Helix
 Jul 2018 OC
Ciel Noir
★A★

★S S★
★N☆☆☆N★
★A☆☆☆☆☆A★
★K☆☆☆☆☆☆☆K★
★E☆☆☆☆☆☆☆E★
★  ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆  ★
★M☆☆☆☆☆M★
★A☆☆☆A★
★D★
☆E★E☆
☆★★★☆
☆O★★★O☆
☆F★★★★★F☆
☆★★★★★★★☆
☆S★★★★★★★S☆
☆T★★★★★★★T☆
­☆A★★★★★A☆
☆R★★★★R☆
☆S★★★S☆
☆★☆
☆★S★☆
★P★★☆☆P☆
★L★             ☆L☆
★I★★★  ☆☆☆☆☆I☆
★T★★★  ☆☆☆☆☆T☆
★★                          ☆☆  
★I ★★★★★  ☆☆☆I☆
★N★★★★★☆☆N☆
★★                 ☆☆
★T★★☆☆T☆
★W☆
☆O☆☆★★O★
☆☆                  ★★
☆A☆☆☆☆☆★★A★
☆N☆☆☆☆☆ ★★★N★
☆D☆                        ★D★
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆★★★★★★★
☆B☆☆☆☆☆★★★★★B★
☆R☆                        ★R★
☆O☆☆☆☆★★★★O★
☆U☆☆☆☆☆★★U★
☆G☆       ★G★
☆H★
★T★★☆T☆
★★            ☆☆
★U★★☆☆☆U☆
★S★★★ ☆☆☆S☆
★★                    ☆☆
★L★★★☆☆☆L☆
★I★★★☆☆☆I☆
★F★   ☆F☆
★E☆
 Jul 2018 OC
Ciel Noir
Same
 Jul 2018 OC
Ciel Noir
A lot of people try to say
That people act so differently
Based on their gender, their birthday,
Their race, their nationality

And every time we think we've changed
We find that it's perennial
Same little boxes rearranged
What's up with these millennials?

We all say "We are not like you!"
They all say "You are not like us!"
This is something that we all do
Predictable, ubiquitous

But one day, we'll be seen as one
There will be no one else to blame
And they will look at what we've done
And say that we are all the same
 Jul 2018 OC
Ciel Noir
 Jul 2018 OC
Ciel Noir
one step   s   m   forward
two steps   e    i    back        
        my   e   d   right      
     your    k   d   left        
my slow          l    your fast
                    seek    y   e    the middle path
two times    e         one half    
    poetry         p    math        
   one    t   a    mind
   two    h   t    tracks
               seek ye    e   h   the middle path
 Jul 2018 OC
Anne Curtin
Becoming
 Jul 2018 OC
Anne Curtin
I am not reading poetry.
I am cupping the words
in my hands, pouring them
over my head, rubbing them
through my skin, into my bones
breathing in
breathing out

becoming a poem
 Jul 2018 OC
Anne Curtin
Sisters
 Jul 2018 OC
Anne Curtin
Ten years ago tonight
we were watching
our mother die.


The bedroom -  with her
beloved blue shutters -
littered with used
medical equipment

her low moans.

Someone inside me
remembers the stench
of cancer

Now  her three daughters
stand in a triangle with
our backs turned -


and no one says a word.
This is a poem my sisters will never see.
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