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camps May 18
have you ever thought about the fact that the
middle of nowhere is rather relative and that
way too many of them exist for them not to be
places that we can point to on a map

nowhere is
black sand and scorpions under the covers
glasses on a waitress and pink hair on another
thinking about you more than i probably should
seeing snow on mountains before ******* her
being twenty and too afraid of kissing an italian at a bar
midnight on the airplane for a christmas without the family
time away from you when i wanted nothing but to be next to you
carrots in tomato sauce before cards and welcoming gestures
all the people and places without a poem that deserve one
silently realizing that this may be everything i'm seeking
a shoebox full of polaroids but no pictures of you
the truth in flesh to prove my dreams are real
twelve countries and zero sense of home
anywhere but here

the middle of all that looks a little like
the time i did too little and said too little
when those three little words proved to be
the biggest of them all

when the train started moving
you didn't look back
you didn't look back
If you look closely
at the ridges of your fingerprint
You can see mountain ranges
and lush valley forests
where rivers
nourish little people.
Talisman Dec 2020
You say there’s no time
But plus twenty explains
Why the cop pulled you over
In Queensway left lane
What would you do?
Only you to blame
If you hit a pedestrian
In Queensway left lane
Rollercoaster Dec 2020
Your face reminds of the places I want to visit.
As your hands explore, I’m reacquainted to dreams.
I find my thoughts after aeons in darkness as we sit cross-legged and chat.
Thoughts of wonder commence as you curl your peach-coloured lips to read me poetry.
I can feel a heart beating through those lips.
The rumble of your heart makes me discover that I have one too, though stunted by the lovers I never met.
I ask for you, and you agree.
PS: The heart remains stunted as I never meet this lover.
Jonathan Moya Nov 2020
On the 11th month,
the 11th day,
at the 11th hour,
Meagan wore her poppy
on the right side
at 11 O’clock,
just like her father,
John McCain
taught her.
Holding her
newborn girl Liberty
close to her—
and taking care
not to disturb
the many small flags
proudly fluttering—
she placed
another exactly
the same way
on his grave
just kissing the
white granite words
PRISONER OF WAR
LOVING HUSBAND
FATHER AND POPPA.
Mitch Prax Nov 2020
Why are we always
looking for love in the wrong
people and places?

6:39 PM
7/11/20
his train of thoughts
carried his mind
wandering into different places
feeling so divine

a world which turned
hallelujahs been gone
an enemy has returned
stop it— I'm done.
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