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 Jun 2015 Havran
Mike Essig
Weeds are
my favorite plants.
Their bad reputations
attract me the most.
They persevere.
They are successful.
They teach me to disdain
the world's opinions.
They remind me it is good
to be on earth
for no other reasons than
the joy of sunshine and rain.
They live on the edge
where everything
interesting happens.
I am very much a **** myself.
Weeds are something you
can count on to be there.
Not many such anchors
in one life. Take a hold;
pull one out. It will be back.
Count on it.

  ~mce
 Jun 2015 Havran
tori
When I was younger
I told my parents
That I wanted to touch a star
And they told me
To embrace one
With open arms.
Maybe that's why
When I hold you
And my chest burns,
And my mind spins,
I don't let go.
 Jun 2015 Havran
Moonless Night
Boys,
now you see that
I'm neither pretty nor smart
nor witty but a prat.
So I dare you
to love me even more.
 Jun 2015 Havran
SøułSurvivør
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sentinel, you grow in peace
you who have seen war
you saw the native people
killed off by the score
you continue on your way
the source of tale and lore
you have a heart
that will not cease
for a hundred years or more

this is the great saguaro
he scrapes the sky with arms
flung up to the heavens
though huge you do no harm
you have thorns aplenty
but also have your charms
you will watch forevermore
ever sounding the alarm


soulsurvivor
(c) 6/11/2015
The greatest beauty in the
Sonoran desert is the
saguaro cactus
It takes hundereds of years
for these to form arms

They have lovely white crowns
of flowers in the spring
and their fruit is harvested annually
by native people who drink their
potent wine for religious ceremonies

They are protected by law
but are shot at and
vandalized by people who
are beneath contempt

---
 Jun 2015 Havran
Charles Bukowski
when Whitman wrote, "I sing the body electric"

I know what he
meant
I know what he
wanted:

to be completely alive every moment
in spite of the inevitable.

we can't cheat death but we can make it
work so hard
that when it does take
us

it will have known a victory just as
perfect as
ours.
 Jun 2015 Havran
Charles Bukowski
from my bed
I watch
3 birds
on a telephone
wire.

one flies
off.
then
another.

one is left,
then
it too
is gone.

my typewriter is
tombstone
still.

and I am
reduced to bird
watching.

just thought I'd
let you
know,
******.
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