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Yesterday I laughed myself out of a poem,
And today I simply lost one. I find it ironic

How the sunshine speaks with the sky so
Romantically, as if offering oil pastel crayons
Like a slightly more dignified child to that
Of his crush in the month of February.

And yet words do not warm, as we we learn
By winter's breath sharply caressing our faces.
I think he speaks to the homeless lady I heard
Coughing and singing a few odd weeks ago.

Yesterday I laughed myself out of a circle,
And today I'm simply lost in one. I find it ironic
Oh, she’s a killer
A knife-shaped *****
She’ll rip through your guts
In the rain-stained
Metro station
Down-town east-end
Blood spills on the bathroom floor
And she just smiles
Beautiful
And familiar
Walking along
Coffee in hand
Going to work
When she hits you fast
Black arrow to the eye-brow without warning
Stamped in the carpet
Cigarette-**** burned and bruised
And just when you thought you could be ok
**** you, Nostalgia!
You know just how to play me
Just where to slice me
All the right words
At all the wrong times
I’m a sucker for your curved blade
I wear your scars and curse your name
Nostalgia
**** me quietly
I am always, only, ever yours.
 Aug 2014 Linguistic Play
r
I've been told
that I'm built like a fencepost
Kind of wiry
A few knobs here and there
A knot or two for character
I make a pretty good fence
Good at keeping things inside
Not letting things out
But now my shadow seems leaner
Not quite as tall in the morning sun
The soil around my feet eroding
Drying out isn't all it's cracked up to be
Staying straight ain't easy
The herd is getting restless
And the barbed wire on my back
is tearing me up inside.

r ~ 7/25/14
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