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The bank account overdrawn,
the west coast -- naked, easy --
passenger seat and head resting on cold glass,
seeing the pines turn to ash to evergreen to redwoods to sand.

I bit her ear and asked for her name,
in Before George's sanctuary,
blush, blushing -- finger to lips hushing,
drinking cognac and speaking in flaming coal
I saw the clouds behind the night sky,
I saw Jesus teach himself to fly,
and I hallelujah'd and amen'd and carried
her to the shore, Samantha, she said,
bulging mind,
anorexic action,
I bit her ear and asked her room number,
in the ocean's frontline,
hush, hushing -- backs of hands and blushing,
drinking cognac and speaking in simmering oil
I saw the night behind the clouded sky,
I saw a fly transfigure into Jesus,
and I hallelujah'd and amen'd and frayed
the remnants of grassroot and buttercup,
drunk high tide,
sober dry iced,

The bank account cleared its throat,
"Room 210 and I'd like a ***** and coke."
I behold no ordinary affection dissembles on your eyes,
And I shall take you, dear, to the paradise;
I once dreamed of you, now you are my reality
For you are every woman in the world to me.

Our language diverged for one word we call, love;
And I love you; always will, and always have.
Never that smile will die on your rosy lips
For everything is perfect when you came.

Time  has no meaning if I do not have you here,
And forever, I will fill the gaps of your fingers,
No reason for us to walk on separate ways
For I will be the wind on your broken wings.

I behold no ordinary affection dissembles on your eyes,
And I shall take you, dear, to the paradise;
You are now a castle built on my brain
For you are every woman in the world to me.
© 2012
 Apr 2012 AntoinetteBrandt
amt
Give me a minute,
To cry out my tears,
Give me a second to think.

Give me a minute,
To overcome fears,
Give me a second to blink.

Give me some time,
To think it through,
Who do I want,
To be to you?

Give me a second to prioritize,
Give me a minute to close my eyes.
The words of encouragement which you write
are a whispered song behind a wall so tall and wide, so tall and wide.

I see you through a fog, thick and dense.  This place of isolation,
this bubble of unfeeling, is not my permanent residence.

(I tell myself this, with the sincere pat on the back)

I hold a knife to my own throat, I choke.

Oh, I've got something to share, believe you me.
( I laugh, as the words slip out my mouth, slide to the floor)

What a joke!

Just tell me this, how do you save yourself when the hole you've dug
is so comfortable and warm, and the wall so tall and wide, so tall and wide?
One was when we were together after the good days ended
It was in my kitchen
We were both just lingering in Alonedom
and then all of a sudden my head was on his shoulder
and I don't know how we got there
but we stayed there
and it wasn't one of those still embraces
we were moving together in place.

The other was another time
that I cannot mention
without trembling.
she sits in a booth
far back in some corner

panther in the grass

it wouldn't matter
he could smell her perfume
from 40 miles away

& you don't forget her scent and
the way her hair looked like
black sails in the
western wind
soaked within the pale moonlight
of your last days
as a
human being

so how do you really decipher
who hunts who?
a riddle is a riddle is a
never-ending
tirade of unanswered questions
that they never dare
to ask

always watching, always wanting
the ****
& the thrill of it
all

so why does she walk blindly
into the den of wolves
full of loud music and heavy tension
& far, far too much whiskey
knowing full well
this night may be one of her
last?

she didn't seem to mind
when I asked

she smiled from her hospital bed





"oh, honey, he was well worth
the fight."
I met a woman at the laundromat,
six-foot tall in her flats.
She bore the scent of a bachelor's degree,
class C cigarettes and warm whiskey--

oh no,
here I go,
down to the river to cleanse my soul.

"My name is Tangerine," she splintered,
75 cents and a steady hand remembered.
I've got an incessant woman miles away,
but your proximity begs me to stay.

oh no,
here I go,
down to the river to cleanse my soul.

Tangerine had two crooked teeth,
a penchant for Plato seeped.
She was a batshit woman,
a bona fide tombstone,
an endless corridor,
and a paper bag dream.

oh no,
here I go,
down to the river to cleanse my soul.
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