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Robert Carroll Spear
Poems
Aug 2015
Who do I think I am?
August Twenty Sixth.
Metronome cabinet.
Metronomic alignments.
A selfish ghost for my cups alone.
Your heart's ashes arrive late.
The celebration is a ten cent word hated.
Removing the light you cast with grace.
I've held up this staircase.
Couldn't stop my plans.
Watch the channel change.
And then say nothing.
With the trace of you, we toast for equations.
It's just the July promise.
Your flame floating.
Dying under Heaven's veil.
Who is it now
to say that speed brings me here?
Birth. A light to darken your mistakes.
Slip into the film.
No I don't understand how your words felt.
Clean porcelain.
Tender libido.
A slip between sheets, ice cold tears.
Written by
Robert Carroll Spear
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