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KD Miller
Poems
Feb 2017
spring
2/26/2017
Prince Street, NYC
the bright white heaven of a
terrace chair
you touched my shoulder, you thought
i cringed
a longer pause—— i didnt
i tried to freeze the spring
in its tracks and dead as a doorknob
stopped decomposed and quiet forever
the summer then swelled
to a crescendo
i sweated out what was left of my
humanity in battery park city
my art used to be found in suffering
and yet i wrote no poetry that week on
wall street
there is no nobility in this,
the suffering art
i mean.
Anne sexton: I never seemed to like the
spring for what it was but for what it could've been.
Princetonian fields, mausoleums
foreign to me, a brief reintroduction in
January only to be murdered again
How tragic, this
did the Witherspoon spring
the Nassau nights
mean nothing?
I revel in the past's
futility
Written by
KD Miller
princeton | NYC
(princeton | NYC)
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