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It was a fun day,

childhood memories were being made.

My happiness showing across my face.

So many questions I had,

so many I asked.

I see pink.



Another fun-filled day.

Dad made my favorite dinner.

My excitement was bubbling.

I guess to them it was troubling.

I see pink.



Today was rainy.

I went outside.

I think I'm in trouble.

She yells  "Get inside!"

She had almost gotten my hair dried.

I can tell she is annoyed.

I see pink.



They didn't care about the smile on my little face.

I guess they couldn't keep up with my pace.

I see pink.


I want it now.

I barely even begin to ask,

she is headed to the cabinet.

Plastic shot glass.

Two tablespoons later,

I see pink.


Dream, dream, dream.

Off to sleep.

Thanks for the pink.


A three year old girl who gets a thrill from fairytales.

They say I have to much energy for someone so little.

All they want is for me to sit still.

So they pour me some more Benadryl.

I see pink.
JP Goss May 2014
Earthen roads spring alive with berm-gardens,
Thistles, and animals’ connive,
A country road the blows the dust
Off the porch, so that it’s just
Us.
When the time comes
that we arrive to claim the hills over there,
Command honey evenings
I, the colt, you, the mare
Transformed by winds, raw from the pastoral
Over-there,
It gives to us the boundless open dome
Free to graze
Free to roam
Where we shall know finally what it’s like to be home.

The homes, they spring by diving arms
Growing strong and respiring clouds
Of coaly waste
That eat the clarity of austere farms
And every life of put-upon
Denature, contorted as the victim-fawn,
Bloating with guts the hue of oil
Strewn by a semi’, in two drawn
An image that takes some getting used to.

And yet, this is only natural to be one with the aluminum blood
That runs in the veins of pale concrete to its beating heart
A healthy babe born of predation
A community called Animosity,
Where a life affirmed is a life denied
Though it be a bridge ‘cross chasms to prosperity,
Hold it close,
For they are deep and one United States wide.

The entrails rot on the city face, spelling out
“Payment,” on the pavement, the street
Maggots reeking, thriving in carrion
Smiling as they urge me, of course
Carry on,
That all will be well in time.

My beautiful mare turns from the hills
Her eyes now glow cinereal
How wretched she stands my side
Her heart now a mirror for how mine feels:
Drawing on love, the general kind.
Such life of hers
Such of mine
Betoken a passion, in its turn, an ill
Then to two ridges, shorn by pure will,
And still we congeal two passions to fill it
‘Till a fibrillating heart beats the color
Of ****.

— The End —