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JN Cole Aug 2020
eastward balcony
and hotheatnoon-like shine
of the morn it floods
the floor
why don't you draw the
curtain close?
fresh barn fresh farm the
animals are up and blinking.

crushed wheat
crushed grass
the smell goes up
to meet you.

you reach into
the depth of your closet and
feel for the tiny box your
mother gave you on
your happy sweet sixteenth
birthday

happy birthday my dear

Sunday dress
Sunday dress
the old and worn
moth-eaten hem you don't quite
mind
they tell you to just
give it away or throw it somewhere
you won't see

don't pick it up
pick it up
don't you ever

Sunday dress
Yellow Sunday Dress
with blue flowers you
pair it with your gold locket

put on your best hat girl
wipe your eyes
and slap that sticker of a smile

Sunday dress
they don't have to know
you scatched your arm
against a nail somewhere in
your closet.
JN Cole Aug 2020
Oh, hi... Yeah I'm good you know...

I've been thinking about
death a lot lately, but no.
I don't want to die.
I think about death as
a concept like...

What happens when
I die?
No... things like Heaven.
I do believe but more like...
What now?
What of this earth?
What of the people?
What is one less
person?

What is the impact.
Ah, yes. That is it.

Will anyone remember?
Remember me for
cutting my hands often?
Having Band-aids wrapped
around any finger?
Being short-tempered?
Listening to punk music
and pretending that I am
one? I am not sure about
the pretending part though...
What about the books
I read that no one has ever
heard of? Because I just
pick them at random
at a random time
at a random bookstore
on a whim
on a bad day
on a day where home
isn't home.

I'm sorry (laughs).

Oh, where are you headed?

Oh, it's fine. Me?

Well...

Will my family still use
lemon-scented laundry soap?
Lemon-scented bath soaps?
Lemon-scented aerosols?
Lemon-scented bathroom deodorizer?
Lemon for the water.
Lemon for the tea.
Oh, and for the toilets
and bathroom floor...
Lemon-scented thick bleach?

I'm sorry (laughs).

Lemon is just a scent...
a memory from childhood.
A candy
a summer day
a sun-smelling bike ride
a nothing-to-do-just-
lie-down-on-the-floor
kind of day
I've been obsessed about it lately.
Maybe because I read it in
a poem. Something about
scrubbing your clothes clean
till they smell like lemon.

Oh, do you have to go now?

Well, do take care and
see you soon. Thank you for
listening I hope you'll like the smell
of lemons from now on.
Lemon-Scented Memories Part 2/Prologue
JN Cole Aug 2020
gone now the
laundry basket by the
multi-color tiled bathroom half-
empty been a week now
been trying to fill it now
been trying to
not feel
empty gone

now the
cartons of milk he's allergic
to anyway,
in the fridge at the
bottom being replaced and being
tossed and
tossed again.

gone now he still
winces at the freshly laundered
sheets now
lemon-scented
lemon-scented you
but you are gone now.

---

who is going to
pester him for more tuna
more vegetables who is
going to tell him not
to water the cacti you
planted in chipped tea
cups who is going to
walk the dogs he gave away
not long ago because
no one has the love and
patience to do it anymore.

who is going to love
the lemon-scent the
scent you loved
just because of a poem
about it or a story who
knows...
who knows now
what you want
where you are how you've been...

who's gonna tell him
now not to
take the pills after
you bitter-sweet
lemon-scented good
bye.
Lemon-Scented Memories Part 1
JN Cole Jul 2019
kitchen low-light,
kitchen low-bright Kitchen;
low-spirit.
open refrigerator door,
illumination on on on
tiled floor
dull light; dull bright reflecting
your sadness.


kitchen low-light kitchen
low bright, kitchen
low; spirit
kitchen empty yogurt
cup >kitchen<
fiddling fiddling
striking the spoon
inside the hollow
(metal spoon,
against plastic cup
the blunt
DING DING DING)
'til you decide it's time
to stop playing and
throw it away.
JN Cole Jan 2019
BLIND. a cat
in a flashflood
of head/tail lights

frozen as a
deer in the
middle of a
highway through
midnight woods;
once upon a
time
once upon
the frozen
air.

do you think
YOU know?

how does it
FEEL?
how do THEY
FEEL before
they D I e?

(do you know where i was going?
do you know where i've been?)

do you say
your names
when you pray
with lifted hands?
do you think
the rain will
wash the muck
down your body?

muck sliding down
your paperthin
skin

your candlewax sins
melting your
shell
showing the
core of
your being.

true colors.

make you feel
pure and hallow
make you feel
like a saint.
make you
feel like
you own the
world.
make you
feel like
you own
me.

find me
flat against
the road
on thick
asphalt;
find me
inside
an empty
takeaway
cup like
red unwanted
slush
rejected.

bury me
under your skin.
bury me
in the emptiness
of your mind.
bury me
in the hollows
of your sinews.
bury me.
i was
never well
half-alive, anyway.
JN Cole Sep 2018
Christmas eve leftover for
breakfast before i drive us
out to Sea. On the

wharf in your doggy tiny
doggy mirror doggy eyes
i am Camera Obscura melting
blue melting one with the
sky.

Small enough, dog; small,
dog-enough so i can place
you inside my hand-cage of
crooked fingers and

red-bitten bitten red
red nails red-painted
painted red, red, red
redsoveryred red.

Let us
          
          Let us you
and

                  me;


together we~
throw ourselves
to Sea

Let us let us you and me~
you and me~
we throw ourselves we
throw, we, you and me
let us let us.



Mister Death
mister death i know
you puke out
dogs.
  Sep 2018 JN Cole
Yz Doo
Shimmering beauty
Slow crisp waves reappear,
Time for coffee
Time for life
Time for shadows dancing on the wall
Im alive
Im dead
Im everything in between
Shimmering beauty
Slow crisp waves reappear
Out of my head and into the day
Im alive
Im grateful
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