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 Jan 2021 ju
Evan Stephens
Prelude
 Jan 2021 ju
Evan Stephens
Language ends here -
in the hazel of her,
in uncountable sleeps,
in a bundling of sun,
in a resonance,
a stray violin.
 Jan 2021 ju
Carlo C Gomez
The raging quiet
The innocent curiosity
of touching the red queen
Dreaming of her *******
and their youthful color
Turning greeting cards
into ransom notes
Bridal showers
into bloodbaths

Tell me, my dear?
Tell me, my mother?
Are they lies
my bladed teacher told me?

For here in the moment
of his demise
Having already demonstrated
his humanity
his capacity to love
It is he who earned
the privilege of seeing
everlasting beauty
As I hold on for dear life...
 Jan 2021 ju
Traveler
A myth is but an image
An image is a representation
My words are but Cupid’s arrows
My quiver desperation

Subatomic particles
Are but a myth of our existence
The patterns are repeating
Invisibly but consistent

You are the uniqueness
Of your own story
Your mythology is your glory
Save your own soul
At the altar of your own delusion
I hope there’s not too much confusion!
Traveler Tim

Misapprehension is but white noise
tripping on some really strong LSD
That’s the spirit this world needs!
 Jan 2021 ju
Bus Poet Stop
"Many a physics graduate student has gnashed her teeth in frustration over the mathematics of general relativity. Perhaps she should try envisioning a flat, boundless desert, with rocks of various sizes scattered across its surface, whose mass creates dips of various depths in the sand. A sturdy canopy looms over that desert, stretched tightly over a skeleton of tent poles linked by bars, matching the rises and dips in the sand beneath it. The desert is all the matter and energy in the universe, while the canopy is the geometry of space-time. The poles and bars are the equations of general relativity, connecting the stuff of the universe with the shape of the universe. As Halpern writes: “Mass and energy warp space-time, telling it where and how to curve. The shape of space-time, in turn, governs how things move within it.”
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My mass and my energy are both warped, so the where's and the how's and the eyes of my curves are the poles and the bars of behind which I relentlessly cease to exist, only to seize what lies beyond the constraints of time and space, as eye wait for the bus to stop in the No Standing zone
The Bus Poet
Stop!
http://www.nytimes.com/2015/05/03/books/review/einsteins-dice-and-schrodingers-cat-by-paul-halpern.html?ref=review
 Jan 2021 ju
Evan Stephens
Look, up in the clouds
full of black horizontals;
a night is born

in little dawdles,
in brown day bank gasps,
earliest stars bowling to break.

I am here, with you, under it;
planning to grant you
the little pictures

that you so desire.
This chapter belongs
to us; to us.

Look, left of the moon,
by the rain steeples;
a night is born.
 Jan 2021 ju
Evan Stephens
The worries
come on the walk
back, melting
together like ice
in the glass:
I'm missing
something,
& what pieces
remain
are broken,
& that I am
never in control
of it.

The sidewalk is one shadow
on top
of another,
on top
of another,
all the way back.

No, you don't
see a thing,
I'm sealed,
a sarcophagus,
a remote satellite,
the flood
is put away
as neatly as
a magazine
on the newstand.

I make another
oath, to pry
open the tomb,
to speak with
a mouth
like a glen,
to accept
that I am not
my parents
nor the drift
of their silence.

The sidewalk is one shadow
on top
of another,
on top
of another,
all the way back.
 Jan 2021 ju
Moe
A faint tiny tear
Can feel like a replacement arm
Leg or eye
 Jan 2021 ju
Thomas W Case
He had that
groaning soul
loneliness, like a
puffy white cloud,
floating aimless, and
aching toward the
black abyss--that gray sky
sadness;
like he was
five years old and just
watched his dog get
hit by a car.
You could smell
the pain--taste it,
like potato chips on a
sore throat.
It smelled like a
basement or cobwebs.
I told him, "Nothing will heal that crap,
just time and dirt."
He didn't blink,
and his soft walnut eyes
flashed
crossword confusion.
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