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  Jul 2020 EG
Riley OHalloran
The ocean is not always blue—
sometimes it’s black,
intimidating and secretive and deep—
that being said, your eyes are full
of the sea over a trench at night,
and I am a diver,
not afraid but enticed.
  Jul 2020 EG
Carlo C Gomez
Sailing off
To discover destiny
To find fate
Following the blood trail
Of the combatant moon
Until arriving upon
The carnage of
What was once
The new world
EG May 2020
what is it called when you write
but never want anyone to understand.
am i selfish-
a fraud.
or am i-
a coward.
the human heart.
is a poem
i am not.
an author.
i am not
the ink.
not the curves.
the rhyme.
do not read into me-
i am simply
EG May 2020
twelve thousand nautical miles
stretched between two lovers
this is not a bedtime story
once upon a space the heart leaves for a swim
deep into the moonlight
out to the Atlantic

she talks to the distance
weeps for the present
love, why must you dive
the war has begun, the world an assassin
time grows silent, static
my love, do not sink

my lungs, a sultry pair
slow to a tango each time we kiss
cabeceo, extraño el abrazo
breathe out and draw in
slowly, i forget this

do you breathe easy because you're calm
or is it the other way around
the omniscient is sleeping
away to a dim dream

you are raging quiet
my constant lullaby
nights of warm hazel and almond eyes
take what's rightly yours
everything left of mine

each night my disobeying eyes
melt into linen
what is this place

my harbor floats in Paranagua
awaits in a humble cabin
with kind eyes
and steady hands
my love, stay alive

all is fair in love and war
still i don't think i deserve you
due so tender, my hands dance clumsy
take not what's in front of me
tremors pause, and

doubt, a Machiavellian mischief
a patient daytime thief
plunging to the inner depths, a ruse
a strong swimmer like you, rabbi
surely not i

my love, show me the shadows
i will not run
time is not light is not space
so i swim
meet you as the sand drains
EG May 2016
it took me an hour just to take a bath
thinking that traces of your touch would leave my skin
if i only scrub hard enough

they don't
12.31.14. new year's eve
EG Oct 2015
the echoes of your stares
the rumble of your whispers
trapped in the pages of my journal

— The End —