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Sarah Flynn Nov 2020
when I found love,
it was nighttime.

I remember hoping that
maybe he couldn't see
what I looked like
in the darkness.
we laugh at that now.

it was a real fear then,
but now I realize how
irrational it was.

how does that make any sense?
someone who loves you
will see you eventually.
if they wouldn't want to see you,
then how can you call that love
in the first place?

you shouldn't need to
dress up and go on dates.
true love is found
wearing sweatpants
and a baggy shirt,
with no makeup on.

you shouldn't need to
go looking for love.

the truth is that
you will be alone
for a while, maybe even
for a long time.

and the truth is
that loneliness will hurt
and it will not be easy.

but if you go looking
for love before you are
meant to come across it,
you will only find it
in the wrong places.

when you do find love,
it won't be perfect.
it will be messy sometimes
and awkward and hard,
but don't throw it away.

it's that messiness and
that imperfection and
those awkward moments.

those are love.

love is being yourself
with someone who loves you
for being yourself,

and who doesn't
just want to love you.

they want you to love yourself
the same way that they love you.

they want you to see yourself
through their eyes,
so that you can finally know
how truly amazing you are.
Douglas Balmain Oct 2020
The grains of sand stuck
to the sweat in between my
toes are each as big and
burning as any star stuck
into the spilt Black—
each mass a Giant searing
through skin, bubbling towards
the hollow flues of bone,
kindling a greater burn that
shines out my eyes, reflecting
my own Ancient Chaos back
at those watchful fires
in the sky;
call it an introduction,
a nod in acknowledgement
of our meetings to come.
Waking up before dawn
The air seems to be made of
g l a s s
Satin curtains hang from a window,
Wind seeping in through the
c r a c k
Memories stick like honey
Resonating in my head, a
d r e a m
Wondering what might've become of those things,
As I lay there half
a s l e e p
But the world seemed so different
Dull things were changed to
a r t
So I concluded, it is quite an odd feeling
To wake up with a stranger's
h e a r t
Sydney Oct 2020
Everyone always had a perspective
The very same one
That said,
"We are safe, the danger none"
"But the real danger is fantasy."
But I was brave, the only one different
I believed that this was wrong
So I sang a song
Did you think I was going to say "So long?"
No. This needed to change
But it was a bit strange...
Your voice is strong.
Sydney ©2020
Norman Crane Oct 2020
Not all light has a source. Some streets travel
in freight cars city to city to be
extra-urbanistically unravelled,
oppidan rugs unrolled for you and me,
Only upon close inspection we see
that the perspective lines fail to meet,
A top shadow has spilled. Tread carefully,
Although a flag blows, the street is empty,
What lives in all these abandoned buildings?
you may ask but no one will answer. I
wander here searching for who pulls the strings
of this, our cleverly falsified world,
But quick look now how the light breaks the rules,
They already roll up the street—the fools!
Inspired by Chirico's painting of the same name from 1914.
Is it just another perspective?
Or is it a much broader lie?
Is it what makes you fly into the sky?
Or is it that something that helps you through the night?

Is it just an expression of thoughts?
Is it just some feelings that you bought?
For someone, from someone?
Or is it everything that you sought?

Is it like writing your life script?
Or yet another piece of paper that you ripped?
Is it just some words you could gather?
Or is it out there forever,
Once you pieced those words together?

Is it just a combination of phrases and words?
Or is it expounding on a fairy tale that you heard?
Is it just a mysterious experience?
Or is it something more serious?

Is it an escape from this cruel world?
Or is it a declaration of truth with a banner unfurled?
Is it like God speaking through you?
Or is it always within you?
Maybe in different forms and styles,
Something that makes you stop and stay awhile?

Is it a catharsis of a tragedy?
Or something to help you keep steady?
Is it ever hostile?
Or does it always makes you smile?
What is poetry for you?
Seranaea Jones Sep 2020
-

i want to reach up into a clear
night's sky and gently pick the
moon out from the darkness
between forefinger and thumb

but when ?
and what shape ??
such a chameleon !!!

shall i do this in a crescent
phase to see if the contour will
fit atop the periphery of my thumbnail

or perhaps wait for the full glory of
its radiance, to roll it between the
palms of my hands and feel the
illumination of it upon
the skin of my
cheeks
?

Yes

to feel the coarsen texture
of tiny mountains

and to see for myself
what lies upon its shy
hidden face

but as i reach skyward,
my intellection hesitates

watching how it confidently
sails with the stars—

having pulled it down from
its heavenly perch,

and

not knowing for certain
how to put it back...



"to hold a celestial being"
© 2020 by Seranaea Jones
all rights reserved
Norman Crane Sep 2020
I read the book
a second time
the book: unchanged
changed: my mind
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