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  Jan 2018 schuyler
mel
i radiate light
most of my hours
but that's not to say
i am always okay

day after day
everything changes
you, me, the trees
my mood + their leaves

the sky never hurries
the mountains don't try
the bees and the moss
without judgement
s u r v i v e

unapologetically
spinning, the earth
moves along

qualities i hope
we all can
take on
  Jan 2018 schuyler
E. E. Cummings
the
     sky
           was
can    dy    lu
minous
            edible
spry
        pinks shy
lemons
greens    coo    1 choc
olate
s.

  un    der,
  a    lo
co
mo
      tive        s  pout
                               ing
                                     vi
                                     o
                                     lets
schuyler Jan 2018
this silly journal won't stay closed!
i laugh, for even it cannot keep my secrets.
"read me!" it bellows from its ajar, scrawled upon pages.
"look at me!" it beckons from its sprung obtuseness.
"oh stop that" i murmur as i make paltry attempt to bend the spine into secured concealment
of my secrets.
  Jan 2018 schuyler
Sappho
Awed by her splendor
stars near the lovely
moon cover their own
bright faces
when she
is roundest and lights
earth with her silver
  Jan 2018 schuyler
Sappho
He is more than a hero
he is a god in my eyes--
the man who is allowed
to sit beside you -- he

who listens intimately
to the sweet murmur of
your voice, the enticing

laughter that makes my own
heart beat fast. If I meet
you suddenly, I can'

speak -- my tongue is broken;
a thin flame runs under
my skin; seeing nothing,

hearing only my own ears
drumming, I drip with sweat;
trembling shakes my body

and I turn paler than
dry grass. At such times
death isn't far from me
  Jan 2018 schuyler
Emily Bronte
The night is darkening round me,
The wild winds coldly blow;
But a tyrant spell has bound me
And I cannot, cannot go.

The giant trees are bending
Their bare boughs weighed with snow,
And the storm is fast descending
And yet I cannot go.

Clouds beyond clouds above me,
Wastes beyond wastes below;
But nothing drear can move me;
I will not, cannot go.
  Jan 2018 schuyler
E. E. Cummings
Tumbling-hair
              picker of buttercups
                                   violets
dandelions
And the big bullying daisies
                             through the field wonderful
with eyes a little sorry
Another comes
              also picking flowers
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