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 Nov 2015 Wanderer
TG Hinchcliff
Oh my word
you have it, you have it.
Take it in your turquoise fingers.
Stuttering through cold Hamburg streets.
Every frigid whisper
kisses
your cheek
for an instant.
This city,
bound with rope,
glimmers off of your breast
at the edge of the water and at the edge of the night.
I could sink
so easily.
But unlike all of those drunken fish
You chose me.
My word on your name.
Negin, Negin, Negin.
 Nov 2015 Wanderer
TG Hinchcliff
They promised rain
for five
days straight.
You were all alone
in that
little home
where no one
really liked
to go.
The fireplace was cold
and the mailbox
couldn't fill your pockets.
You slept on the floor
in a raggedy
nest of blankets
and loved a
paper bag
twice a day.
Old pictures made
you
realize that Mom & Pop
were kids
once
too.
Sometimes
at night when you would
lay awake
you could hear
the trees
and the wind
plotting to **** you.
By morning you
knew
that both you and the kitty
on your doorstep
were hungry.
But only
she deserved to eat.
You drank
coffee at 12:13 PM
with
your breakfast.
Two cans of orange soda
made you start
believing
in
God again.
The deer trespassed
as they pleased.
You realized that you weren't
scared to walk
down the hallway
at night
anymore.
I wish you could have
seen your
face
when it started raining.
But I wish
more than anything
that
you could have
just
seen this coming.
A
promise
is a
promise.
 Nov 2015 Wanderer
TG Hinchcliff
Everything alive is behind the Redwood Curtain.
Somewhere west of Holy trinity, Oregon Pass and further still.
River stones into the Pacific, swept.
Parked vans on the 299 indicate a prolonged ****-stop.
An old man has been camping in the same spot for 10 days straight,
waiting on the radio.
You listen in about the 9/11 inside job and then tune the **** out.
There's a banjo being tuned in knee-high agua while the steelies
dive too deep on a meal.
Just beyond Blue Lake,
the skinned knees of Grandmothers and wizard bums
bleed into your morning coffee.
And if you haven't been stung in Fieldbrook
then what good are you?
 Nov 2015 Wanderer
TG Hinchcliff
The parking lot
Had
Me wondering why
Brown-skinned
Girls
Always turn away from me.
Radio music
Over the low
Rumble of someone's engine.

Sundays aren't easy.
 Nov 2015 Wanderer
ryn
Ivory
 Nov 2015 Wanderer
ryn
.

••••               •••••••••              ••••
•our wrin-     kled hides only co-       nceal the
anguish•that resonates with conviction amongst
my herd•this humanly greed that might cause us
to perish•what's valuable to you, we find incredu-
lously absurd•embedded in our trunks lay mill-
enias of lineage... • hidden in our eyes bec-
koned      the change in history      •in our
••             beating  hearts  is             ••
the longing to
turn the im-
possible
page•of
hapless
chapt-
ers w-
rit-ten
with the
points



of
bloodstained
ivory
.
Concrete Poem 2 of 30

Tap on the hashtag "30daysofconcrete" below to view more offerings in the series. :)
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 Nov 2015 Wanderer
Jake muler
I took a chance for a new job today and I realized.. Even if I get the bottom of the totem poll job, I'm a working man. Those are the best. We know how to and what to do best. Cheers up to the working class hero!
 Nov 2015 Wanderer
SG Holter
I think I might be too tired
To be outraged.
I want to stand on my head and
Hands in front of the moon just
Clearing the horizon, and make
Myself into a peace-sign.

The only flag I wish to paste
Over my facebook profile picture
Is a huge, white one.
No more. Please.
Peace.

But all I can do is waste whispers

Underneath the raging roars of
Bloodthirst, revenge and hearts
Vocalizing the pain of their lost
Limbs.
Too tired to be angry.
Too dry to cry.

Victims. Aren't we all?
I draw November air
And exhale something like a
Prayer, as my loved ones walk to
And from work and school like
Potential bulls-eyes in the

Eyes of pure, ******* evil.
I'd cover a grenade
For any one of them. But for now
I stand against the rising moon
Like a capital "I", then
Put my dot of a heart

On the ground directly
Before me, looking
To the skies.
Furiously fatigued; a tired
Human exclamation
Mark.
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