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 Nov 2016 Minnie
Darkly
Dear Human,
 Nov 2016 Minnie
Darkly
"...and then we get up at the **** crack of dawn, eat cereal for breakfast, take a cool shower to put some pep in our steps, then get in the car and drive around listening to our favorite music until the coffee shop opens."

pause

"And when we've finished our morning coffee and people-watching we walk around town looking at all the crap we want to get when we've saved up enough money for it and then get a slice of pizza or something. You know what happens next? We take our favorite books or whatever and go chill in a hammock that we set up in a corner of the college campus. You want me to bring my guitar so you can listen to the silly ditties I come up with on the spot? Sure. You want to go to a movie? Just say the word."

pause

"I don't really care what we do, as long as we're content. I'm just throwing out ideas."

pause

"I just want to give."

puts down mic and walks off stage
Once more with feeling.
 Nov 2016 Minnie
Nat Lipstadt
the elbow comes to rest in the soft
skin coverage of my essence

in the dark, it's easy and free to weep
but still never cheap

everyday is still a word, an everyday struggle word,
echoing like a scream in a cavernous void

her elbow comes to be buried in my chest,
preference for an unavailable, sleeping soft cheek,
this elbow sharpened from years of work, worry &
baby carrying

on this day, of pointing,
take-a-hint-to-be-remembering,
the simple honors life bestows
comes like a pointy elbow poke,
across vastness of a bed of whiteout cotton,
freshly filling up
as I am writing,
with thankful years and thankful tears,
already recording newbie memories
freshly forming up

welcome this sharp goodness
all the days
of our lives,
even those everydays
of our lives

nothing greater than being grateful,
and the re-gifting to others
the blessings of plentifull*


5:26am Thanksgiving Day 2016
I am particularly grateful for my "posse" of fellow poets who have metamorphosed into
friends
 Nov 2016 Minnie
The Dedpoet
That words are divine,
But that poetry
Is made by living:

Become the poem.
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