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Faith Aug 29
I am trying
to keep my head above water...
and avoid looking at you
if i mistakenly do
I will sink so deeply
air will no longer be
a familiarity
not even a privilege
simply nonexistent
instead
i will solely breathe you in
Idealism boards its boat
and sails out to the ocean
and its middle reach.
Out as far as it will dare
it takes its detached opportunity
to yell its prayers
back at the beach.

"Wouldn't it be better,
if things were just [x] way?"

"The problem is that we're [here]
when we should be [there]."

Both bare and shoed feet
fist up the sand
and shout
shout, shout back --
They shout back,

"In the mid, your world is gold.
Here on the land, everyone's stomping toes.
On purpose. On accident. It happens.
Shit happens. As far as living goes,
reality just is. So, sink with your conviction.
We challenge form, train adaptability.
Super humans laughing up from the tar.
We've come so far. We've come so very far.

It's still nothing."
Madisen Kuhn Jul 16
in another life
i wear clay beneath my fingernails
and linen pants around my hips
fastened with a braided leather belt
rescued from my mother’s closet
one she wore in the eighties
when she met my father on the seaside of france
i carry flowers from the corner
down a gum-stained sidewalk
past the park i fell asleep in during one
slow sunday afternoon
there are cherry red stains on my pillow
some from my lips, some not
i’ve never been in love
but i’ve never felt alone
my nose is slender
and my collarbones flaunt themselves
beneath tanned skin
i am someone who drinks vodka and
orange juice while watering my plants
a longhaired cat licks its paws
in the windowsill
as i lie naked in the sunlight
reading tolstoy and kerouac
and obscure poetry introduced
by the neighbor in 4F
none of it matters
i am just like a cloud
like a creaking step
i share myself only through
spearmint breath and coffee dates
here are my sweaty palms
here are my uneven bangs
you will never know me
i wrote out a daydream
Poems:

What a dream of writers,
Upon its grand galore?
Lifting hands upon Poe,
To ask forever more?
An Ernest near his sea,
Of Dante’s own heaven.
Fun to see Angelou,
With The loved Whitman be.  
My dear Plath of saving,
Nestled on her pillows.
So pleased to see the Frost,
Odd this time of willows.
Pleased my own time of miles,
A spirit dream of Niles.
My last poem as Niles.
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