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this town burns like old tales of wet villages near Halifax
a hub of nowhere, lined to hubs all apart at travel-trap distance
undistinguished but cultured, the spec manifest of an always rolling boulder;
party party, debit card!

welcome to the corner of the world.
written on March 2nd, 2013 about my hometown of Powell River.
So I told the clay to mold into man
but it put up its hand, and said

*'Stop.'
 Mar 2014 jude rigor
hkr
i've found it's impossible to
let go of someone
who's standing
across the room.
i was trying to let go of him while we were sitting in the same classroom, or bumping into each other in the dining hall, or sleeping in our separate beds at opposite ends of the campus. but the truth is we were too close. you can't let go of someone when they're so close to you, when you know you could run into them by just walking down the street. knowing i'll never see him again is all at once comforting and terrifying, because i'll always wonder what would've happened if i'd stayed. if we'd always been just a short walk apart.
 Mar 2014 jude rigor
Overwhelmed
in the thick of it all
love will always be the storm
that tears apart your houses
and drags your cities
back to sea.

no matter if you built levies
or walls ten hundred yards high,
the waters will hit hard enough
to flood the roads
and knock flat
the barriers

in the moment
when your tallest skyscraper
kneels down before the power
of the ocean, in all her grace,
you will always wonder
what could I have done
to forego this
destruction?

but when another storm comes
one that you could not see
one that you were truly
not prepared for
love will be your shelter

in ways that are both obvious
and mysterious all the same
she will come to you
in your moment
of final
prayer
and you will ask yourself
how else could I have diverted
this catastrophe?

after shutting for the final time
the next sight your eyes witness
will be singing birds and blue skies
and you will wonder how,
and eventually,
why?

this I cannot answer

perhaps this is love’s true poison
that she will not let you die
until she kills you herself
or perhaps
that is simply her price
or perhaps even
there is no reason
and love,
just as I,
know not why we do
the things we do
but we do them
with passion,
with commitment,
with love.
 Mar 2014 jude rigor
vy
Untitled
 Mar 2014 jude rigor
vy
I fell in love with a
boy who loved effortlessly,
laughed endlessly, and
lived recklessly. I say
that I "fell" because I can't remember how
his forehead wrinkled when his eyes
lit up.
But I found a
boy, eyes darker than sin,
legs longer than my sighs,
who buries his smile under a tired mouth and
sad realities.
He covers his strained eyes
after sleepless nights
with a squinted glare, counts
down the days 'til he can leave this town.
He does not know that
I would hold him until his
demons are driven away
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