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 Jan 2022 ConnectHook
july hearne
now that the season turned to hate
i'll take this hate and take you down

for a time, times, and the dividing of time

you do not see your own reflection in the iced sidewalks
never salted, never shoveled
just ***** ice to trod upon

the slippery filth of hills to

skip and laugh and break a neck
pet a dog who will soon maul all your children
but for now your laughter is an ugly war cry in the air

a ghislaine maxwell with longer hair
all her customers going free
a negligently tolerant church bell ringing somewhere

dog takes a ****
for a time, times, and the dividing of time

pack the filthy ice and pet the ******* dog
every time joe biden ***** his pants
for a time, times, and the dividing of time
And he shall speak great words against the most High, and shall wear out the saints of the most High, and think to change times and laws: and they shall be given into his hand until a time and times and the dividing of time. (Daniel 7:25)
This night stands at the death of summer,
Poised to catch the fall of leaves,
The deadened pulse of green things
Grown disconsolate in the hands of Frost.
Happy Halloween 2021
 Oct 2021 ConnectHook
Waverly
1
 Oct 2021 ConnectHook
Waverly
1
How am I deserving?
A dog to have an angel.
A drunken mongrel, lapping up his drink out of the sewers,
stumbling and mumbling and howling his way home.
Smoking cigarette after cigarette, eating his fill of what's in his bowl.
A liar, a thief, a beggar, a cheat.
A homeless dog, screaming, baring his teeth at the others,
until his cowardice overcame him and he whimpered into the woods,
crying with his tail between his legs. Nothing but shame to clothe him
and even that hung loosely.
And how now, am I deserving?
A dog, to have an angel.
An angel, whose song is hummed so softly, it could be the twinkling stars whispering. whose eyes, light and caramel and emerald, ignite waterlogged embers into competitive thrusts of red-hot atomic energy. The energy to move. To grow!
TO EXPAND!
how now?
Am I deserving?
of an angel with a fabric
of a million hurts and echoing pains,
laid so gently upon her shoulders,
that it is royal,
and she is not ruined,
but exalted.
Am I deserving?
The mongrel.
The angel.
The drunkard.
The farce.
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