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 Nov 2023 shiloh
Julian
i believe,
even the stars
get tired.

when the night sky
had folded them away
back into the darkness

and the moon,
that lonesome thing,
has doused itself in shadows.

so will you too, my friend
shy away from the light
as if it would burn
if it reached you.

maybe you feel,
you just are not strong enough
to face the day.

that the midnight hour
is a broken thing

and oh, the silence
is deafening.

and you and i know, even the stars
are tired.

you mourn for them
as their light expires.
 Mar 2019 shiloh
touka
exit
 Mar 2019 shiloh
touka
In city, I shrivel and cry.

fire to power lines;

forever tied to old habits

and vacant highway signs.
"And I ride for the principle, solid mind individual."
stay in one place, kid
 Aug 2018 shiloh
r
Shade
 Aug 2018 shiloh
r
Shade, go away
knaves, your shadowy
hands are made of clay,
simple worthless dirt.

Darkness, be gone,
night belongs to poets alone
to cast their bones where they may,
worthy words, their poetry.
Or something like that. :) -
 Jan 2018 shiloh
r
The chant
 Jan 2018 shiloh
r
Once I spent a winter
with a poem; everyday
in the woods at work
I would say it, never
writing a word until
I had it down in my mind;
it became what I called
a floater, a work song,
a chant, until it sounded
just right and undramatic,
and then I wrote it down
in the dirt with my boots
without changing a word
leaving it there for the birds
and the worms and the roots.
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