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Mel Harcum Mar 2015
It’s not over until all the crows
fall from holes opening in the clouds--
sunlight washing cracked concrete white.

I refuse to let your actions fade to static until
the last ca-caw echoes on parkways silent
as the attempted protests of the girls you *****.

I could count five of them by the time I left, yet
none seemed able to open their stitched lips
despite my rallies and strong-worded speeches.

Maybe that’s because you laughed at them, too,
when they threatened to file police reports.
But five years have past since then,

and the rage freezing me from the inside out
has begun to fade, slowly, thawed under
a sun growing steadily more yellow--warm,

my friends always said it would be
if only I would just give it a chance--
all the crows are falling.
Julia Aubrey Mar 2015
what if we could grasp things in our hands..?
I don't mean plain, concrete items,
I mean what if we could grasp the memories, the changing of the seasons,
and the people we love into one little item?
how long could we contain it inside such a microscopic view of abstract
morals and views?
how about that titian leaf lying around in the pile near your door?
go and pick it up.
what do you feel, hear, smell, see, perhaps even taste in the moment?
I think that in that moment when our minds have come to a conclusive point about the values grasped into something so simple,

we can hold it.

(j.a.r.)
Regan Troop Feb 2015
Late night walking empty streets,
staring at the concrete
A bare ***** human skull
stripped from all its meat,
hanging from the tree branch
like an apple on an apple tree
Should have kept walking,
empty,
staring at the concrete

RKT
WickedHope Feb 2015
i bleed toxins/ don't
you  taste  them/  in
your    water/    in
your wine/ on
your
lips/
it's a
ma-
tter/
of time
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