I'm so dark and lovely for Halloween.
And there's nothing i can do about it.
Because it's still 2016, and we better act right all day and all night.

I'm still your friend, not your kind of enemy.
It won't be long until high school graduation comes in June of next year.
So, good luck to the Class of 2017!

Haunted, they say, believing
the soft, shifty
dunes are made up
of false promises.

Many believe
whatever happens
is the other half
of a conversation.

Many whisper
white lies
to the dead.

"The boys are doing really well."

Some think
nothing is so
until it has been witnessed.

They believe
the bits are iffy;

the forces that bind them,
absolute.

Rae Armantrout. 10/31/2016.

Out of the ***** of the Air,
      Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
      Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
            Silent, and soft, and slow
            Descends the snow.

Even as our cloudy fancies take
      Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled heart doth make
      In the white countenance confession,
            The troubled sky reveals
            The grief it feels.

This is the poem of the air,
      Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
This is the secret of despair,
      Long in its cloudy ***** hoarded,
            Now whispered and revealed
            To wood and field.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 10/28/2016.