Andrew Jun 5
All I am is a burning leaf
A sudden flicker, a short glare
Against the window of this existence;
Some sort of ghost, like the winter snow
Melting into a puddle in the far field.
When the gray fog turns into night,
Just at the edge of the forest.
All I am is already gone, no
Breeze left even to take me.
Andrew May 26
with all this noise
A flower
lover of light
with all these years
only minutes less
brittle, stiff
the wind
myself
a shell scoured
a lover
some
weed left
to grow then die
yet
Andrew May 26
I hold too much in my head
Similar to how little
the desert recieves rain. Sometimes
I need to go into the mountains
and drink to feel peace.
I drink until I can begin to write
Then the words spurt how like a
Flash flood. I think about the horizon
and the breakdown of poetry
Everything mus
Even the brittle brush and stone
it's almost June, the mesquite
living is pain, it's every
barely languid
suffocatingly benign;
let it end here no go on
like last years flowers
this years doom.
I've been much further since leaving the ocean
the whole of america for me, to devoir
the stars and their stars
andtheirstarsandtheirstars
isn't that joy, begin
Andrew May 26
The desert is no place for poems,
Poems need rain. I've been smiling lately
walking more. Thinking about the horizon
and it's voluptuous curves. How the sun
Snakes, how the moon breaks how the stars
are born and die.
. I've never stood
In one place long enough like you have
Old mountain, with broken bones.
Andrew May 3
Where is the horizon? I hope it’s the breakdown -
Those sweet memories; these sunsets and stars
The unmasked moon, some dead love net
Hanging from the docks at midnight;
Maybe a flower, better yet the moth
Better yet a path, the open wound
Andrew Mar 24
in the middle of my life i enjoyed the waves something about diving straight through them which made it great
Andrew Mar 24
From a dream Cleopatra gets up and walks away again from beneath the trees in the swamp a thousand ibis fly away again, we think we know the horizon until death we, oh it is snow
The lack of rain, love on the last day
Either running into the pines or just leaving the island, we have that in common at.least
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