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1.1k · Aug 2017
The DJ
Grace Aug 2017
You’ve got your disks ready, your tracks loaded
Your club full, your drugs in
Laptop in front of your fingers
Fiddle with the house rig, call the sound guy back
One more time
Check the setup, recheck the setup,
Check your charge
Battle record on deck, you’re set
How’s your cues?
Run through the tracks and the channels
You’re sprinting
It’s all set, all set, all set, all set, all set
Drink your water, throw it back
Thumbs up the light guy
Toss the bottle under
Your gear under your fingers, worn
And won
Breathe. For a second.

Feel the crowd quiver, feel the house shiver
There’s magic in the air.



Grace Feb 2017
it takes Courage to grow old
Wisdom to grow young

Experience for youth
and Humility for some;

Innocence for the years
and yet Virtue for none.
495 · Mar 2017
Am I adorable?
Grace Mar 2017
Am I adorable?
Am I beautiful?
Am I pretty?
Am I lovable?
Am I kissable?
Am I doable?

Aw shucks,
thanks for saying so.
479 · Mar 2017
Grace Mar 2017
Perhaps my hands didn't ever know where
My body ended and your fingertips began
But your secrets, I know their boundaries well
And mine - well, they were never mine to tell.
333 · Dec 2016
I love her
Grace Dec 2016
I love her
Does she love me?
I'm waiting for her under the Tumtum tree
she said that she'd be coming soon
the field's in bloom
she told me she'd be waiting here
the sky is fair

we'll hug and kiss like lovers do
like we did so long before
you'll press our foreheads together and
I'll twine my fingers into yours
but you stole half of our soul
and took it with you on a plane
3 825 kilometers
2377 miles
so long

she told me just keep waiting still
she told me half a year ago
my bones are pale, the flies are gone
but she will come.

she said she'd come.

I love her
Does she love me?
320 · Jan 2017
Grace Jan 2017
she makes me
like a science-fair soda rocket, the tails of children's screaming glee

she makes me
on wings of kites, that stream back in nylon ribbons to loving hands

she makes me
the white ash on dewy green grass, new July morning

she makes me
landing on pillows, laughing into soft sheets so obscenely wrinkled-

she makes me
sweater dipping low on her shoulder, smiling up, the way she whispers between our lips:
you make me.
292 · May 2018
Grace May 2018
You are the drunk father at a ballet recital,

Who falls off the stage after shaking everyone's hands.

You are the body that brightens my life.
I wrote this in a challenge to "Write a three-line poem about lemons without using the following words: lemon, yellow, round, fruit, citrus, ****, juicy, peel, and sour."
268 · Feb 2017
End of my beginning
Grace Feb 2017
If I was meant to kiss your
Lips are sealed on our transgressions of the
Night, sacred sidewalk, we stroll down the road in the
Twilight's half light ushers in snowlight
In winter, your hand is mine.

In spring, the snow is melting
Slowly I want to feel the years melt by with
You are exquisite, my dear, my
Mango paradise and lazy hot summer
Sunshine brushes your hair with gold
Foil my character flaws, and I hope I make you
Happy and content only that I am madly in love with you.

Take a step back: imagine if we had never
Met some guy yesterday who told me our love is
Beautiful are the leaves that burn in the
Fall deeper into the spiral that is your
Light packing is all I need to fly to you.

The little things matter; like when your
Laugh because we have today and smile because I have claimed your
Hand it to you, you know how to make me feel like you
Love me, as magpies do, iridescent and for
Life is brighter when you're

My words to you are broken sometimes but you make me whole.
an old experimental poem.
251 · Aug 2017
Star Explorer
Grace Aug 2017
Never did I know
the star explorer
was inside my heart.

I could feel it writhing.
It beat. beat beat. beat beat. beat
was when I knew it had reached you.
249 · Feb 2017
Winter Wonderland
Grace Feb 2017
Snow, like silent guardians
hundreds of thousands of them
Fall on my shoulders, my backpack
the trees, the houses, bus benches.

Cold, a whispering cat's tail
shivering past your hand
Snap branches and blanket dead engines.

Frost blossoms in bedrooms
Bite fingers and rib cages.

Winter is lonely, without you.
238 · Feb 2017
My teachers
Grace Feb 2017
My first art teacher was my best friend.
She taught me the colours of her eyes, the line of her smile, and in every movement grace.

My first writing teacher was a classmate.
On the bus, we twined together words with our bodies, and spilt poetry from her ink-stained hands.

My first music teacher was an acquaintance.
One word turned to a melody and the melody a concert, and my notes became the birds that she loved...

My teachers, not many, not little, but giants
My teachers are shoulders to stand on and grow.

My years are still few, there's still teachers to learn from
But is it so wrong to want a teacher to teach me the road?
235 · Mar 2017
Grace Mar 2017
"Love me," she said

and I said

Grace Mar 2018
Off-brand chips and bean soup, again
Someone told me the skies here are blue
Today my tea is grey. The commute
Roars quiet, like an ostrich
Like a gas top and saucepan.

I taste red beans on my tongue
That I brought from my mother's house
Back home I have a chicken. My wife
My three daughters, my son
The train is red, red and white

I will call them again, tonight.
My knuckles are dry. My shoes are clean
Lint-rolled suit, crisp tie
Sharp and clean and white shirt
White and my red, red beans.

— The End —