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 Jun 2018
Aeshish
And then the dawn and dusk are everyday
Where the Sun and the Moon also in way,
As if they’re opposite bowls on a tray,

The oceans within the bound,
The exerts of wind lie in control,
Because they chose to be in accordance.

Dear child, thou need to hold that too,
That of a kind that would let thou,
Be the one, thou would never sorry.

I'll be thy silhouette,
Knitting the fairies of night and day,
Leaving scars on the path thou slay,
The pure black, not shades of grey,

Will be there in thy accordance,
Joy or mourn, wherever thou stay.

(18:50)
 Jun 2018
Tanisha Jackland
The beautiful things are
always written in black
The swan may she overwhelm
you with her delicate charm
is brought to you in obsidian grace
Or how about the crow
brings us the message of tomorrow
soothsayer with black wings
Black is tenderness
and camouflage
our protection
fiercely rejected by some
While others surrender to
its potency
Wherever it is you stand
with or with out it
know that black stands on its own
thru out the Universe
pulling us like gravity
commanding a deep reverence
for it
rearranging our skies
Black is good.
 May 2018
egghead
We cannot write silence.
The beats.
The pause.
The breath.
The way it aches
and persists

and begs that,

if only for a moment,

our consciousness is only a whisper.
our bodies,
our lips,
the air that passes through falling chests
and stillness.

A melody of emotion.
Sleeping in the quiet of a heartbeat skipped
a word lost to the wind.

The wickedness of reticence
Encapsulated in air and time.

The moment stretched too long.
Hesitation perpetuated in the grip of fingernails
pressed into palms.

We cannot write silence,
but we can try.

to find a way to immortalize emotion
to create space
in the ceaseless drone of words that speak and spin.

I cannot write silence. But I can write
tears and years
and the burn of long-stretched lies.

I can write goodbyes and hellos
And dozen ways to say
I love to hate you
Or
I hate to love you
and sometimes
I cannot tell the difference.
Silence.
The space I have upheld for myself.

I love to hate you
Heart.

I hate to love you too.

I cannot write silence.
But I know it.
and I have held it in my hand.
Inspired by the Vanity Fair article of André Aciman's reaction to his book *Call Me By Your Name* being made into a movie. Specifically the quote, "I couldn't write silence."
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