An incomplete face in its glass slab, pulls a distance over me. Mournful, I watch the neighbors streaming down the toothy walk in black and brown coats, their laundry massed on shoulder tilt, or in little onion cart. They are all right here, in this winter identity. Washington accepts them. If they should crane & launch a coup d'œil into this hunched pane they'll know I am not of them; what body I have stalls on this laminate - the black fume behind fastened eye has already bolted to keels of poetry across furrowed Atlantic: completing a glass face.
Daily rallying, bullying, Rioting, lying Terrorizing Washington DC's peace Waving weapons, hiding white sheets All cause the Covidian King wants to keep The crown Screaming ***** "Black Lives Matter!" "Coup-opperate! let's topple the Capitol down!"
Meanwhile the slave-catchers called "police" Took selfies with these terrorist in the streets Meanwhile, why were you missing from your own riot?
You and Your MAGA minions made millions Of Americans sick. All of you are still too ill... too illegit to quit! Tried to dominate twitter with hate, but Allah don't like that bigoted ****!
We the people of soul and prayer Have been raising our hands in the air For four full years Today, we retire from our weary pursuit We watch with popcorn as the chickens come home to roost
Honey on the table or spilled out – whatever keeps the fruit flies coming back. We went above the river to see the flood water rising; it has rained all winter and now the blue sky feels unnatural.
We used to dream about Washington, and you’d tell me not to worry about the gray skies or the rain. I survived one week in rainforests and glacial rivers. It has never felt like enough – maybe we’ll move to the same town and live on opposite streets.
Lately I have snapped in pieces of the puzzle but the closer I get to finishing, the less I want to – there is an answer in a place too deep to reach.
My whole body has been sick and I pretend I don’t know the reason – you said you’d take whatever I would give so is it wrong of me to give you less – I don’t know how to quantify the guilt I carry.
Maybe I’ll sell all my belongings, head west, to a cabin in the forest and when people look for me all they’ll hear is the howling of the wind.
It almost feels like summer, breeze at the dusk, killing mosquitoes. It feels like Taking a stroll on National Mall, On a summer night in front of Lincoln Memorial. Playing Frisbee riding bike On the meadow in front of the Capitol.
My summer in the capital With you, him and her and them and myself alone
It feels like the humidity in the swamp, with jazz playing in the background It smells like crab cake and french toast, out from the diners I frequent It looks like the summer sky, cloudless, your eyes
The meadow the ducks, summer dress and birkenstock. Brunch, breeze and bike, followed by more bike rides along the riverfront.
Sitting on the marble stairs of the Supreme Court Dipping toes in Reflection Pool
Summer in D.C. oh how I much do I miss you and adore Summer is a state of mind and so does love But you never fail to give me the feelings of those above.xxoo