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Rohan P Mar 2018
driving over these
blue lines is like bridges
without arched triangles—

your arched and aching triangles.
an experiment in absurdist poetry.
Rohan P Mar 2018
carrying the white-flecked wisps
of you hurt like tomorrow. sometimes they
whispered, when the sun quieted:
“you’re like frost—
you melt into the dark”.
Rohan P Mar 2018
sweetly swimming
in the colder tides of
emptiness—
tidier than the backseat and
your umbrellas; tidier
than the rolling crests of
suburbia;
tidied by the frayed smoothness
of sea.
not so much the shoreline, i think
Rohan P Mar 2018
she was temporal;
she poured like a loon and
splashed on
warmer and blanketed white;

the folds crackled;
she disaffected—

that colour,
acquitted in your
smile,

that time,
quieted in your
softness,

that coldness, tacit
in your
hands).
  Mar 2018 Rohan P
Hilda Doolittle
Whirl up, sea—
Whirl your pointed pines.
Splash your great pines
On our rocks.
Hurl your green over us—
Cover us with your pools of fir.
Rohan P Mar 2018
frightened, like colder
clouding sunlight,

like windows
of shadow and blue,

colder
shadowing sunlight,

like widows
of frightened blue

i pasted your love to the window:

blue, clouding sunlight.
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