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KD Miller Jan 2015
"1.
...***, as they harshly call it,
I fell into this morning
at ten o'clock, a drizzling hour
of traffic and wet newspapers.
I thought of him who yesterday
clearly didn't.
2.
That "old last act"!
And yet sometimes
all seems post coitum triste
and I a mere bystander.
Somebody else is going off,
getting shot to the moon.
...we murmur the first moonwords:
Spasibo. Thanks. O.K.

- Adrienne Rich

I meant to write a headier poem about this
I sit down think about the quarter moon
is it in a fourth? I don't know,
the half of halves

here it is, here i am
writing down all there is to
saint saens the cello

i have a migrane, god.
jesus utterances but afterwards
we'd walk out the dark basements

and smoky apartment rooms (with a start over
sense later in the park)
with this and once you'd told me
"I think shame is a part of me"

however the other one would just
cross his arms
"come on be normal how are you are you ok whatever i don't
care anyways"

not to talk
the heat of the
flue hot on my face

i can't talk if i do i'll have to spit
out this window roll down the car!
the car window

sometimes i'd cry even reduced to tears
i knew to not try that **** with the other guy
you'd just stroke my hair and oh god

Oh god no one had ever touched
hair that softly in the history
of anything

or pulled it like that either and
so i remember august beach nights once
where i'd cry from that memory and

my mother would ask why do you weep?
why do you cry kid?
i'd just look at the breaking waves

the saens sinfonie in my head still
hoarsely say  "it's just cause... i'm loved so much you
know"

and me and the guy with the room and the
black hair don't even
count on it
'
he'd hold my hand, alright
i'd feel no comfort in it
still feeling like i'd

taken a friendly stroll
along the state roadway
chemicals. chemicals. chemicals

soft sun in the
black bamboo
flooringwood and goodbyes.
this is an attempt at surrealist/ symbolist poetry let me live
KD Miller Jan 2015
1/29/2015
princeton thursday night
all out of coffee
and, sitting by wood slats of the
sad sunroom i
smile at a dead beetle

set the record down on
helen forrest and all she does it talk about
how she loves so madly

the sun sets on the west
sourland bramble downwards the cul-de-sac ridge
was in my line of sight long walks

but pulmonary bruises like the radiators
and that was in what? october? april?
no. april's too early

i close my eyes in bed and
i still hear that ****** song
enraptured i sink back and

i open again i open!
i can't afford to die or lose
same thing, just yet

i have dorms to sneak into and
cigarettes to put out,
more lifetime flatlines to complain about and

drain pipes to stand next to and
grass to sink into when it thaws and
unexpected phonecalls from past men
to receive.

month long in absentia you never called me first and now
i gotta go flip this record over, man.
stand up down the stairs off the bed
remind me not to blink for too long.
  Jan 2015 KD Miller
vf
some kind of weirdness about the way we connected. i swear a sweet whisper was poured down from a distant planet, a loving hand brushed over the milk of our lives and joined us two, floating,

oblivious in the white. we joined the others in the stars and it didn't feel wrong. it was meant to be, a smile shared captures an infinity
i love having crushes so i can dramatize them
KD Miller Jan 2015
Z
5/1/2014
I’ve never met a woman that knew what Forbes was, or had a subscription to it at the age of 18 anyways. First thing she said to me when she sat down was a marvel at the fact that i was 20 and actually right in front of her. We talked about Champagne rose and the middle class the first 5 minutes we knew each other- I told her she was a woman after my own heart and I unbuttoned the top of my collar. She smiled tightly as if there was taffy stuck to her front teeth, or something, and she asked me didn’t I think she looked a bit young? I told her not really but sometimes, but I thought most of the time she looks 13, but i kept that to myself, and that’s when I noticed her eyebrows. They were perfectly squared and colored in perfect mocha. And then my eyes trailed a bit down and found her eyelids- it’s as if she had glued skinny leather black strips above her lashes.
“I love your tan,” I remarked, unbuttoned again. She stifled and told me she was an islander. I smiled and told her I love dark skinned girls. She blinked a green eye and touched the blonde of her hair with a chubby finger and i asked what she planned on after school- she told me human rights law, and how she hoped for a short dinero packed marriage. I asked her if she wanted to go to bed with me and she smiled and said no and stood up. I told her I could respect an opulent woman like that, and her fingers soothed down and up the hem of her genteel Chloe blouson.  I said bye and finished her glass of Cristal.
KD Miller Jan 2015
1/20/2015

every man i have taken
is dead to me.
They're dead in the back of the room and no smoking sidealleys, handing a bag of ****** like 'here,'
cigarette-in-mouth induced lisp
They're dead in my best friend's bed or at least used to be lying spent and of course not thinking of me to only say how they dislike.
Peculiarities like: I wish he'd grasped my hand as he pushed in and effort face and all had hurriedly torridly muttered "i hate you, babygirl" because I love to get my fortune told. What is the future?
Peculiar because the other one didn't talk  while high and especially not then, I would love to inherit his estate of drugs and kissing my held hand walking home at 9pm.
I only cried for one of course and barely at that.
In this life,i am beginning to realize certainties.
Why do I write today?

The beauty of
the terrible faces
of our nonentites
stirs me to it:

colored women
day workers—
old and experienced—
returning home at dusk
in cast off clothing
faces like
old Florentine oak.

Also

the set pieces
of your faces stir me—
leading citizens—
but not
in the same way.
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