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 May 2020 Phoebe
Carlo C Gomez
I tried taking a trip
down memory lane
but it was closed
to thru traffic

So I called the department
of transportation
and they told me
it was all in my head
 May 2018 Phoebe
Emily Dickinson
1129

Tell all the Truth but tell it slant—
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth’s superb surprise

As Lightning to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind—
 May 2018 Phoebe
Emily Dickinson
997

Crumbling is not an instant’s Act
A fundamental pause
Dilapidation’s processes
Are organized Decays.

’Tis first a Cobweb on the Soul
A Cuticle of Dust
A Borer in the Axis
An Elemental Rust—

Ruin is formal—Devil’s work
Consecutive and slow—
Fail in an instant, no man did
Slipping—is Crash’s law.
 Apr 2018 Phoebe
Laura Mankowski
Chivalry is dead
This I was taught at age eight
While sitting at my poorly organized desk in the third grade
Still believing cooties were being bred in the boys around me
The death of chivalry was not hard to fathom
Chivalry is dead
When we were young
Listening to the stories of old maids
Recounting tales of bitter divorce
In between addition problems
Making sure no one saw us counting on our fingers
Chivalry is dead
We thought
But what was it anyway?
 Dec 2017 Phoebe
Michael
There is a fashion here to call them crazy.

He who left the sun, for the beauty of the night.
She who frequents heaven and earth in her travels.
He who holds many minds in his skin.

They fashion those broken, in need of repair
For, in this way, they may affirm themselves first rate.

But tell me have you ever felt the morning’s first light
after a 7 seven-year space,
have you known the distance between the heavens and earth
or been 3 persons in a day?
 Dec 2017 Phoebe
Lorem Ipsum
If you grow up the type of woman men want to look at,
You can let them look at you.
But do not mistake eyes for hands or windows or mirrors.
Let them see what a woman looks like.
They may have not ever seen one before.

If you grow up the type of woman men want to touch,
You can let them touch you.
Sometimes, it is not you they are reaching for.
Sometimes it is a bottle, a door, a sandwich, a Pulitzer — another woman.
But their hands found you first.
Do not mistake yourself for a guardian or a muse or a promise or a victim or a snack.
You are a woman — skin and bones, veins and nerves, hair and sweat.
You are not made out of metaphors, not apologies, not excuses.

If you grow up the type of woman men want to hold,
You can let them hold you.
All day they practice keeping their bodies upright.
Even after all this evolving it still feels unnatural.
Still strains the muscles, hold firms the arms and spine.
Only some men will want to learn what it feels like to curl themselves into a question mark around you,
Admit they do not have the answers they thought they would by now.
Some men will want to hold you like the answer.
You are not the answer.
You are not the problem.
You are not the poem or the punch-line or the riddle or the joke.


Woman, if you grow up the type men want to love,
You can let them love you.
Being loved is not the same thing as loving.
When you fall in love, it is discovering the ocean after years of puddle jumping.
It is realizing you have hands.
It is reaching for the tightrope when the crowds have all gone home.

Do not spend time wondering if you are the type of women men will hurt.
If he leaves you with a car alarm heart, you learn to sing along.
It is hard to stop loving the ocean even after it has left you gasping — "salty."
So forgive yourself for the decisions you've made.
The ones you still call mistakes when you tuck them in at night and know this:
Know you are the type of woman who is searching for a place to call yours.
Let the statues crumble.
You have always been the place.
You are a woman who can build it yourself.
You are born to build.

-Sarah Kay
Sarah Kay is an American poet. Known for her spoken word poetry, Kay is the founder and co-director of Project V.O.I.C.E., founded in 2004, a group dedicated to using spoken word as an educational and inspirational tool.
 Aug 2017 Phoebe
brokenperfection
Your chest is made up of solid marble.

I am spent,
Five years I've chipped away, slinging picks and sawing dust off of your breastplate
I hear wings flapping against your ribs but I cannot free your bird's heart
It is too small and it is growing weaker
I took your temperature with my palms and nicknamed you Arctic
You were my Alaska and I made thawing you my meaning
Five years I've wondered why we work so hard at what we can't have
You're cold as stone and I'm losing my patience
So I set aflame your collarbone and poured gasoline over your sternum
Sat back and watched the fireworks pinging off of your chest hairs
They glow blue in the evening
You're blue and I'm freezing
I'm moving on
That one unattainable love.
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