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Ode to Sky

Ode to a person who was always smiling,

Even though they weren’t happy.



Ode to a person who I loved, who helped me through my nights,

Even though it was their last sun.



Ode to a smiling figure on the cliff, who laughed until their dying day.



Ode to a graceful hand that pulled me out,

That showed me who I was,

And who I was meant to be.



Ode to the memories that haven’t slipped away,

Still locked inside my heart,

With the face of an angel,

A shattered eye,

A broken mirror.



Ode to the happiness that was spread without a second thought,

Only for you to look down and say, “Oh, there’s no more.”



Ode to your gentle fingers,

Your sweet smile,

Awkwardly tying,

The red ribbon,

In my hair.



Ode to heart, that I couldn’t realize, until too late,

Was broken.



Ode to a house, in which lived a picture perfect family,

That was shattered, far too soon.



Ode to someone that I looked up and ran to,

A person who I strived to be like, a person who didn’t care for themselves,

A person…who hated their destiny and everything in it.



Ode to thoughts,

That allow me to keep going, even though there was no destination.

That never let me break down, because your memory didn’t let me.



Ode to a world,

Where perfection was considered a necessity,

A world…that destroyed you.

If you were born in another universe, would you have been happy?



Ode to a ocean,

That waxes and wanes, not caring  at all,

That you’re gone.



Ode to me,

Reaching to your hand, but only finding air,

To hold.



Ode to a bird,

Flying above, and me, lying there on the grass,

Wondering if you’re finally free.



Ode to a happy day,

When we were eating ice cream together,

Sweating and laughing in the sunshine.



Ode to this ode, that allows me to finally cry,

On paper.
Lie in prostration, child,
When life bereaves you
Of all truth, all inspiration
All light, all the ways.

For they'll find you,
They'll come to you,
Bathed in glory,
Unreal beauty and grace,
Twin guardian angels,
Soft, tender glow
On perfectly sculpted face
Capped with sparkling halo.

All you'll need to do then,
Is to rise, lift your arms,
And you'll feel your pain
Start to slowly dissipate,
As you'll cup your weak,
Trembling palms, to
*Reach out and touch Hope,
Reach out and touch Faith.
Shot in the
    light of achieve-
         (meant all the world)

filibuster then, fill your heart until you've
     busted, down and rusted and
            caked with regret
  
  never stand between yourself and
        falling, or love will grow hot like
   shower-heads turned too far, like
       grainy distorted sight streaming out our
                  smiling ears, ceaseless cerulean

    (I'm dull gold, and you
       said you liked polishing)
Life is a skin disease, and I am the finger-nail's will pressed into scratching.
Life is the electronic vein under the skin of Juana's Salvese quien pueda.
Life is the loop of a record or the needle's point or the vinyl ridges

and I play and hear, and I see and taste and touch.

I feel light pass through my skin and am projected.
Life is the wall or the reel or the reacted film,
but I am the light.

I am the music.
I am the skin.

And I am the finger-nail's will
pressed into scratching.
from robin d. gill's fantastic* Rise, Ye Sea Slugs!, a compilation of 1,000 Japanese Haiku on Sea Slugs

because sea slug
has no eyes, the poets
write about them

(eyeless especially seaslug's eyes haiku-in often see)

The Turtle's Translation of a Translation

A sea slug's eyes open
only in Haiku. Slugs
are blind in the water.
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