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Shane Lee Sep 10
The river runs rapid,
radiant, through rock
made of ashes
flung from fierce burning
fires that reached beyond our heavens,
sipped the sanguine wines of space
and grew full and fat and hot
while it fell, like rain,
gripped by gravity,
among countless others that stood
upon one another to sip, just a bit,
more wine. Ages, aeons, they reach
but never drink again
because the river runs through them.
Enjoy (:
  Aug 3 Shane Lee
Carlo C Gomez
scavenger bride,
she counted periods
before the children came along,
but never suspected
eyes like bottles
beginning to blue,
a tangle of scars
hermetically sealed,
the new order of
a broken romance,
dead love cassettes
in the glove compartment,

her cold and empty
constellations,
like cold breath
passing through a beam of sunlight,
grid of points, pendulums,
the ratio of freckles to stars,
no subtle countenance,
martinis and bikinis,
soft ******* and ice cream,
slight, elusive things, on a beach
with no more meaning,

the repeating pattern of
her mistakes and reliefs,
a preservation of decay,
sustained by the tiny
human fault line
in that oneiric hinterland,
between dreaming and waking,

she draws around the noise
and the clearings,
she creates within that sightline
the way her sadness can feel
comfortable,
an extension of loss that turns
her ruins into a home.
  Jul 31 Shane Lee
Carlo C Gomez
Glass divides us

Forever in pane

This reflection
looking back at me
is shaped like
the blinking vast mosaics
in reverse of you

Once removed

Twice over lightly

The shallow end
of an image immersed
less than we

Yet at an unfathomable depth

Breathing through
what love remained

Before those pretty
little pieces
should be taken by the wind
Shane Lee Jul 31
Let’s face it:
The world head on.
Crashing into tomorrow’s
broken windows like wrecking *****.
This species’ autoimmunity thinning
in the wake of its own sandbox
filling with corrosion and dung.
Locked in our room,
avoiding the mess,
because we made it.
Honey will not mask the taste
of burnt toast forever.
Shane Lee Jul 27
There are those that live in the rain and those that live with it. She wanted to live in it, but I found that she is the latter. I watched her close as she sat by the window. Her reflection looking back at nothing as she stares out thinking of everything. She says she thinks of moving to San Francisco, how her clothes are out of date, why her cat hasn't come home yet, where it is. She says she thinks about how the sun beams down and how we ignore that it's really a self-igniting bomb billions of years overdue, that the universe is never on our side, and that the crystallized rocks and clashing colors are a mask for its darkness.

She thinks of puppies and kittens newly born and blind, of Pitbulls and Rottweilers and how friendly and amazing they are, why the oceans are such mysteries to us but our own cosmic address is not. She tells me that she misses my long hair but androgyny really suites me, that she distrusts those that are too upfront about themselves, and that she likes bubble baths overlooking the beach at sunrise. She says she thinks of budding flowers and how they bloom once the rain stops. She says she can't wait to see it.

She has told me she thinks of closing chapters and opening new ones but fears breaking the spine and folding the pages of a new book. She has told me her fears and worries about the cosmos, the world, our city, our front yard. But she also told me she thinks that the rain is a sign that powers beyond us weep because they see that we can change. She says she chooses to enjoy the thought that the rain casts gray clouds overhead and how it always brings flowers afterwards ... because she lives in a world after rain, rather than living  in it.
Enjoy (:
Shane Lee Jul 17
I looked for you
behind the buildings,
the burning woods,
the narrowing corridors
of the hospitals,
the decaying boards
of the old school house,
the freshly planted trees
in between.
But when I finally found you
among the glittering fairies,
fireflies shining,
I finally understood why it is
you hide.
Enjoy (:
Shane Lee Jul 13
Swaying slowly.
Waltzing, wading.
My partners limbs,
intwined and tangled.
A dance in tune
until it ends.
A deadly sway,
with currents changing.
Twirling, mingling.
The Wanton Waltz.
A Toxic Tango.
The Dance of the Jellyfish.
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