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 Apr 2017
r
Silence
I know her
like the back
of my hand
an eyebrow
under a cross
of ashes
the cloud
I followed
for so long
now I listen
on lone walks
for the song
of stones
beneath the creek
I once called
home sometime
so long ago
I can't remember
why I ever listened
to her at all.
 Apr 2017
ryn
This feeling I can't describe...

It's jarring emptiness
though I'm bloated full.
It's like a puncture,
though there's no stake.
It's overwhelming heaviness,
though there's no load.
Like a scab that won't heal,
though there's no wound.
It's confusion...
though, my mind's a blank.
It's me reaching out,
though there's nothing to tell.

This feeling I can't describe...
A curse to which there are no words.
A burden that I foresee spilling
over several dawns.
 Apr 2017
South by Southwest
The air breathes foul in fog
As ,
they flocked with fleeting
extensions
of wanna be arms

The UFO'ed
realizations
had borders bleached
by
sun in tide's time

You find eyes
staring
into iota's intensity
you . . .
thought tepid in turmoil

Transient in permanence
bleeding
to the knife's known edge
emotionless
in the apartment's aperture

Drift away in the sadness of
Diane Arbus
whose facts flee from
fiction
"My favorite thing is to go where I've never been "
Diane Arbus died of a barbituate overdose at the age of 48 in 1971 fully dressed in a bathtub of water , knowing her death would be recorded in film and would be as bazaar as the pictures she took in real life.
 Apr 2017
Traveler
According to
The science of the unknown
Random samples of emptiness
Can only scratch the surface of nothingness
Depleting the distortions of invisibility
While examining the possibility of
The non-existent state
Leaving only what appears to be
Worthless ashes of eternal entropy
...
And in another related stories...
Traveler Tim
 Apr 2017
L B
Who knows what stops the heart of a song
I take note

of tiny thud—
robin in the wheel well of my car

the limp head
of a cat’s prey

sigh of wings
defrocked by power lines

baby starling’s fledgling flight
falling short of a pond’s edge

The slate morsel unearthed
by the tines of my rake

…and the world is vacant for a moment

Grief ***** a womb of air
but how it lives— I cannot say
Upended creature of us

Stops the throbs that herald life
 Apr 2017
South by Southwest
I woke today
the bones did ache
No aspin
for my shakes
So I cut a hole
to let the sunshine in

The flowers fake
Someone unknown
made the window
shatter . . . break
Still the moon just laughs
on and on

Take my words
do your best
The cockroaches
own this place
I'm the boric acid
here now have a taste

The wheels roll round
they hum a sound
Please hold
these memories
As I dig deeper
this black soil gound

Slap my face
break my arms
Petty now are
your charms
Still I will not connect
to your weary harm

The great green gate
The red alley way
The moment I doubted you
Will I now reboot today's
Graves
On top the hill

Black soil ground
dig me down
dig me down
dig me down
 Apr 2017
wordvango
opened eyes
finally
those that refused to see
the rawness
saw things as
my gift my right
to take as I saw fit
ravage have enjoyment
at their expense
I looked up
then that day
at the immense world around
and lost my breath
felt alone
felt guilty
for all I had done
for what I
had thought even
sin is evil thinking
about the things I had
contemplated
satan was me
I feel now
I believe
that humans
are definitely
no god
god I quite
ask to show me
his face
I see rainbows
now
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