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Hedons liken to sound.
The hungry cadences wielding that satisfying resolution.
The resolution we seek in between memories
and the spirit of the staircase.
Are we intricate bodies
or are we intricate worlds,
full of all you have ever known.
What is that sound?
I may be defined by my actions
but my actions are defined entanglement.
Some soft note
huddled under a hard and heavy chord.
Then victory comes in the 42nd measure
and is defeated in the next.

All of us can make noise
but nobody can be heard.

Even the altruist is selfish to an ideal,
I want then only to make music.
i learned about loneliness last night,
belatedly, because no one ever bothered
to explain it to me- it was
something best kept for the time it existed in
the blank space where a hand had once been
a soft shaky touch
now absent

the sorrow comes in sultry waves
with the indigo tide of me missing your breath
on the hollow in my sleepy neck,
a whisper backandforth inandout and then
a hitch, a twitch and the slow descent
from sea-froth into dreamland

we drifted, content, into the
scared scarlet hills where nightmares roam
where i made my home, knowing that
in sleep your whispers still coated my pillowcase
and i was not alone

we sank, satiated, into
the wasteland in our wasted heads
knowing that despite the terror, we could share your bed
knowing that when i woke, gasped, drenched in sweat
you would brush the hair
from my forehead
i'd remember my respite
and we would settle down once again

and as i lie, disconsolate
my ribcage heaving, desolate, i pull your jacket
to my face, breathe in your scent, your comfort
rise from the depths
and thank whatever guides our fate
that i only feel this pain
in the present
that's what he always smelled like- cigarettes, *****, and axe.
 Jul 2013 Alice Baker
Xavier
Tell me,
do you tire yet
of yellow roses
littering your wall;
hanging upside down,
and weeping their color
unto your bedroom floor
as they fade to match
the beige wall paper
they are tied to.
Paint one red
with passionate love.
let it be the shocking difference
in a swollen sea
of normalcy,
and long forgotten friends.
When its color fades
I promise to you
it will not go beige
to blend into its surroundings,
fading from your sight.
It will remain dark red
like wine, a reminder
of those heady moments
and happy nights,
where joy and laughter
flowed down the street
from interlocking fingers
moving in step
to one conjoined beat.
Hang that flower
in the middle
so it may proclaim
“I have stolen her heart,
and given her mine”.
Don’t settle now for yellow roses;
reach out and paint
a rose deep red.
 Jul 2013 Alice Baker
LD Goodwin
You don't belong to him,
he doesn't know your name.
Though you sleep beside him,
in a space you share,
your journeys aren't the same.

You don't belong to him,
he doesn't know your soul.
He hasn't held your heart,
nor deserve the love you have,
though it would make him whole.

Your don't belong to him,
though he may think you do.
And own you like a puppet ,
to dance and dangle
and play with, til he's through.

You don't belong to him,
you belong to you.
And he is missing out
on what love is all about,
one day he'll be without
a love that could be true.
Harrogate,TN July 2013
 Jul 2013 Alice Baker
Kali
Untitled
 Jul 2013 Alice Baker
Kali
I guess you're going a separate way
But I can't find the words to say
All that's in my collapsing heart
So I drive it into works of art
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