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Steven Fried Sep 2015
She is a fresh Tchoupitoulas berry,
the fresh cream on Commander’s pie.
She is a rest from my long day,
a caress through long nights.

The air whispers her passing.
In a rush she flashes, hot
she sprints away — toward the sky;
the air crackled, white behind her.
Her brush pleases and passes and cracks like lightning
swift, merciless, ecstasy.

to all,
and she is all,
to this one

Not a hand in love,
Not a fist in hate,
Not a word with wisdom,
Not a syllable of fate,
No chains grip tight her wrist,
to abate her speeding flight.

She will roar away, or she will float free
of tethers,
as Earthly, caring, confused, scared, lonely,
as me.
First time I've seen my change in venue in my work... cool.
Steven Fried Sep 2015
My pen moves lethargically, when you are gone
My stomach is weak,
poisoned with thoughts of you and he,
not sad, no, your caress, his,
dare I moan a wish?
To be yours, and you mine…
To lay with you, rest…
To siphon your stresses into a jar,
seal them tight.
And then, we’ll scream together,
as we act, react, and sway,
they’ll scatter, shatter, deep… in the night.
Trying to find my muse
Steven Fried May 2015
go to college — study what you love,
get a job — don’t worry about money,
start a family — focus on your career
eat healthier — try our new stuffed cheesy crust,
make time for loved ones — provide,
spend more time with her — give her everything,

the gristle is all that’s left
when you’re eaten alive
Steven Fried May 2015
Cover me in a shroud
poke out prying eyes
don’t let them see my confusion
all that lies beneath is hollow

Press me into a corner
batter my body against the brick
break my legs
just tell me
where I am

let the sky fall
and crush us both
now you feel
and now you know
the crush of a body
no longer limitless
Steven Fried May 2015
Travel the world
see the rainforests with full and pointed leaves
swim in the streams and feel the smooth mud
eat delicacies that make men weep
smell the refuse of a billion
lie in the arms of strange lovers
listen to the sound a rose makes when it bends in the wind
now return

See her there sitting between the stacks
the phosphorescent light is harsh on her skin
the world is laid out before her
can you tell her about the rain forests
about the leaves that fell with forceless precision,
about the streams that chilled your bones
and made you feel alive
about the food that drove you mad
and the blinding smells
tell her of supple foreign skin
about the rose so delicate that when it finally snapped
so did you.

Could she understand?
Would she care?
"What do you know?" she asks.

So you try to explain,
you paint the most vivid picture
of nature, man, beast, land, space,

"What do you know." she says.
Steven Fried May 2015
The stone is cold against my cheek
bring the glow closer
I can feel the heat
hear the spark
smell the fluid
see the flame

Slowly the rock glows through my skin
and burns
the sharp touch signals
a rising nether
where thoughts float free
and men don’t cry
and I don’t care

The fire burns low
and the stone grows cool
I am left

Was I flying?
I never left the couch.
Steven Fried May 2015
In fertile ground when you plumb the land
don’t be surprised if she drowns

in the nest with the other chickadees
far above the forest
the cold still penetrates down ****
the chirps are fewer here
each intake of breath is sharp
small heads peer about
not yet old, not yet wise, not yet ready
to fly

but there she is below you
peak for a time
she laps at the well
poisoned by dung
she’s purple and gangrenous
yes gangrenous for the way’s been difficult

she says goodnight
and nestles into the underbrush
fading light ushers in white flakes
it’s quiet, her eyes won’t open again

the well floods
and rivulets spread down the hill
she is too cold to feel water slip up her nostrils
into her lungs
too numb to question

there she lies
drowning in her own silence
there she dies
too weak to scream
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