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Gary Muir May 2013
the funny thing about time
is the way it grinds your bones to dust
while they’re still sitting in your flesh

we can all feel it,
we pretend we don’t, but we do

you feel it when you wake up in the morning
having dreamt of your childhood
and the sound of your sister’s laughter is still ringing in your ears

you feel it when you look up from a book
and its not your brother sitting in the chair next to you
but a strange fellow with a deep voice
and a nose that looks remarkably familiar

and strongest of all, you feel it when at the dinner table
your mother asks you what you’ve been up to for the past 18 years

see, the funny thing about time
is the way it grinds your bones to dust
while they’re still sitting in your flesh

just the other night, I pressed my palms together
and I called on a friend I hadn’t seen in awhile,
to ask where he’d been

he told me he’d been spending time with my father
because the man really needed some company
without his oldest son to talk to

oh and while I have you, he said,
your mother called
she told me to tell you
that your bed is made, if you ever want to come home
i sat down to write a poem about anything but love. i guess when you're running from it is when it hits you the hardest.
Gary Muir Apr 2013
my eyes hurl meteor metaphors
towards the gravity of your gaze

upon impact, passion ignites poems
in the starlight of your stare

connected in constellation,
we read
Gary Muir Apr 2013
O, to live in the absence of time
when days are not days, but moments
always begun, never at end
unplanned, uncharted
and remembered
Gary Muir Mar 2013
you are birdsong
you are moonlight
you are white snow
you are rippling cornstalks
you are rolling hills
you are the sun setting behind the mountains
you are morning air, and dew
you are a ripple in a quiet lake
you are refracted light in a flowing stream
you are a bed of lilacs warmed by the sun

you are beauty
beauty is you
for emma
Gary Muir Mar 2013
your lips touch mine, a simple revelation
that begins a revolution
walls crumble
guards stumble
as you fumble for the key
you open me and see
that I am no longer who I used to be

you found the door
that leads straight to my core
and because of you I can love like never before

so now that I’ve moved on from all that has been
I plead to you, baby, kiss me again
Gary Muir Mar 2013
your eyes search me
looking for scars
that might tell where I’ve been
my body is clean

your words search me
inquiring about my past
and waiting expectantly
my response is brief

your lips search me
feeling for impressions
left by former lovers
I’ve been smoothed over

so I write this poem
to urge you to keep searching
for you are close
and will find me soon
Gary Muir Mar 2013
you turn away*
the way the earth turns so the sun can't fix it's heated stare
my look merely rolls off, unabsorbed
why do you rotate?
my gaze is not meant to dry your oceans
or burn your forests
I simply wish to light your mornings
illuminate your mountains
and warm your valleys
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