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 Aug 2020
Carlo C Gomez
I.

This, a final offering,
before the clipping of wings.
A love like blood,
oh anathema.
A grey declined to black,
oh herem.

It means salvation
knelt with darkness.


II.

So it be!
So it be!
So it be!

Ring the bell,
close the book,
blow out the candle.

Douse the sacred sun
and find belief caught in fishermen's nets.


III.

In silence of angels,
climbing broken ladders,
no ascent, no longer.

Salvation has
knelt with darkness.
 Aug 2020
Joe Cole
FOR STEPHEN E YOKUM
you know I lost the will to write
because the words just wouldn't form
In the space inside my head
So I took to living in the wild
using a tarp and not a tent
Sitting beside a log fire and gazing at the stars
And a million words all jumbled up
in the void within my mind
But then it all came together
once again making sense
After all poetry is just written words
the incentive always there
I think sleeping in the woods as I now often do
Is the inspiration to once more lift the pen
and send my words to you
 Aug 2020
Sarita Aditya Verma

Hello
A name
A greeting
It draws your attention
The sound the syllables
Prompts you to look into the direction
A flower a leaf, bowers
Inanimate
It remains
Hello
 Aug 2020
angelique
~flickering~

like love. like time. like her.

little flame quivers and sighs
she glows a warm amber,
and her light is welcome;
it awakens plumes of dust,
casts shadows on the
walls and floors
where memories forever sleep.

the table is piled high with boxes bearing
clothes she had sewn and hemmed
for growing legs,
broken and mended china,
and boxes filled with
a volume of aged letters –
written in last year's bleeding ink
and sealed with a memory.

and her last syllables form words in mind:

~“we will all burn away,
but I will be with you until morning arrives,
on its withering arms of gold,
and I will be standing there,
rose in hand,

and I will give to you in death
what I could not in life.”
~
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