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Summer night--
even the stars
are whispering to each other.
 Jun 2016 Catriona E
mike dm
i am openshut basket case.
a real cool hand luke
who throws febrile shade

on all
the things.

step on the corona of my silhouette
and i wet gods red
with bottled up passive agro tactics.

king.
crown.
thrown

into
this ****.

i didnt ask for it;
so, now im asking
for it.

i like to think i was,
once upon
a slick timespace,

******* whole -

instead of
flipped chan-
nel;
snow s t  a ti    c,
no signal;

running TVly
with bulls that pushpull the cool

that keeps me
from editing me out
with metallic deletes.
i will wade out
                        till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
                                       Alive
                                                 with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
                                       in the sleeping curves of my body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
                                            Will i complete the mystery
                                            of my flesh
I will rise
               After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
             And set my teeth in the silver of the moon
little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.
 May 2016 Catriona E
Bonswan
If I were a tree
then a poem, to me
would flow just like
my xylem and phloem
 May 2016 Catriona E
mike dm
my skin
is thin and
swimmingly scrim.

the moonface
pushpulls me.

i am
moved
too much.

i am
not enough
mover.

i am *****
given,
all too often.

i am
not
me -

i am you
in your supine
palm.

i matter
little.

my
molecules
are
fast
becoming
transparent,

vibrating with the sound
of your voice, which

seems real
-so real-

real
like
when

the kitchen
sink
disposal

runs.
 Nov 2015 Catriona E
hollowings
Me
 Nov 2015 Catriona E
hollowings
Me
I try to depress and
repress
my depressing
tendencies
They are tendrils in seas
and stormy in skies
lies about guys, and
grandmas who die.
Probably what I think about when driving 80 miles an hour down the road, with nothing on my mind but the pain I havent felt.
 Nov 2015 Catriona E
hollowings
I originally wrote "its funny" as the first line
however I dont think
its funny
I started liking you far too long ago
and I got stuck on the Argo sailing
in sorrow under the statue of Rhodes.
I started writing a poem a day
just to impress you and I realized that
i only ever impressed myself

You like our car side conversations
maybe because I keep good company
or maybe because you were actually interested
in the hopelessness that
I am.
I start to make you a black hole
and I am past the event horizon.
Sunlight only escapes through my words.
My open lips meet your parted sentences
cut short by the warmth of human breath.

I made you into poetry
but I should have followed my sisters advice
and not smashed you into my poetry books
I should not have swirled the words of your
glassy blue eyes into golden threads
binding ancient books.
Thats where I went wrong.
I cared to much.
Our path wasnt a lambda where two paths meet to make one
we were an x
bold on the page but
only crossing for a mere moment.

I dont regret any of it. I just wish
you knew that I meant all of it.
Pretty poems
and movies on weeknights.

Masquerades hiding our feelings.
I never even asked where you stood.
What your mask meant.
What it was hiding.
I showed up to the ball dressed like art
and you were cinderella
waiting for her prince charming.
I shatter glass slippers.
and arrange the fresh fragments into
an ugly spectacle
of futility.

We are schrodingers cat
locked in a box.
Im just afraid that I am pandora
and that the hope of us died
when I observed the radioactivity within.
Cancer cells on skin
you called them cute moles.

I guess I kinda just wanted you to be mine,
and I always knew
that
Good guys
stay stuck at home
watching star wars box trilogies.
Dreaming of their Leia.
Id rather be George Lucas. I think.

This stopped making sense to me the moment
That I decided to make it about you
so Im going to end it

here.
SRS
 Nov 2015 Catriona E
Jacob
Disarray
 Nov 2015 Catriona E
Jacob
She listens on
to the melody void of octaves
A phantom grasping under uncertainty
Reality handed her a flaming torch
Her dress billows in the breeze
as she burns herself free
disarrayed by flames.
#disarray
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