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 Jan 2013 Devon
PK Wakefield
come into me
i would know you
i would feel you in my hands

speak not a word
i need no lips for you
nor eyes
nor shoulders
nor blood of heart

come into me
come in to me

come in

to me

my hands are warm
my bones are firm

where my feet are grows flowers
where my fingers, grows light

they tread in the quietest of forests
they have split the rind of the earth

in it, they pressed a seed with each step
in it, they have sown a breath

i have cupped my hands about the hot, rough blood of the earth
and i have taken it in to me

come in to me
i would know you as i know myself
i would hold you in the span of my breast
i would shield you from a blade
i would meet the blow of a fist

come in to me
do not hold at the edge of darkness
do not waiver in thy step
do not balk or quiver

come into me
i know not a thing
i know not a whisper

please

please

come in to me
 Jan 2013 Devon
Tom Orr
.Arabic in write to tried I
My mother wasn't having it
The right to left was just too much
It wasn't the squiggly lines as such
And so to her delight, I changed my mind.
"Don't worry Mum, I'll learn Dutch."
 Jan 2013 Devon
PK Wakefield
it was milk again last night arms sweating teeth on edge and whole body steaming lathered in crocuses
 Jan 2013 Devon
kara lynn bird
I manipulated hearts today-
Without guilt I was in control
and it felt good.

With my own hands
I cut them,
With my own hands
I felt them,
With my own imagination
I twisted them until they fit just right.
Just like placing stars in
the magic of the night.

I cut out paper hearts today,
Twenty four of them.
It all seemed perfect,
One heart for every hour-
In a day,
That we're apart.

I moved them,
The hearts,
And shaped them-
And spread them apart,
Like time zones between here,
And Australia.

If only there wasn't a time zone bewteen us,
If only there wasn't your destiny and mine-
If somehow these hearts could beat together;
The rhythm to a love song-
But they cannot...

They're paper thin
hoping to win,
The hands of someone
to hold them.
 Jan 2013 Devon
nic
95 North
 Jan 2013 Devon
nic
Of course
when your southern tipped - tongue
drips out the words
"I want to move up north"
everyone whose roots
reach deep below the belt
of the Mason Dixon
will ****** your face
in their gaze
and warn you bout
that Northern Disregard.

But don't listen to their tales
of discarded homeless
people plastered cross pavement.
Tell them bout those
who find home amongst
the clutter of 125th
with warm eyes
that search the cold
looking for laugh lines
and loose change.

Tell them
how they maintain
an open hand
good for grasping
and an open mouth
good for un-gourging
their gapped - toothed grins
of wisdom.

You tell them
that these people
with the wrinkles
of a wise man
may not have much
but they share
what they got.

You tell them
that no matter
where we're from
we've all got a little
Southern Hospitality
stained in our smiles.

Tell them
that you'll be fine
and pray you're right.
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