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#ambiguous
The white quarter socks with pink flowers in the bottom corner of my dresser (grey now) The brown rope hammock at the Botanical Gardens College dorms April Blue light glasses UPS Trucks (and whatever they’re carrying) Dark flannels Pink and navy and gold (and cinderblock walls) Magic mushrooms The bridge halfway down at Max Patch (the beginning of the end) Electric bills (in summer time heat) Harry Potter Halloween Scoreboards (and their keepers) Psychics in Manhattan   Cheap water bottles Linguists Architects Couch *** Vans (the sneakers) Personality tests Long, natural nails Duffle bags Biscuits at sunrise Living Sadness in a world that doesn’t stop moving, Just because you’re sad Forgiveness on the tip of the tongue The strange intimacy of unspoken truths Of sacred silence Of quiet, forbidden longing   The mad unfurling of a blueish love- A love somewhere between earth and sky Friend and Foe Flame and ash and all that burns Folding a corner Turning a page Finishing a book Keeping it on the shelf Forever,   Even if just for the memory These are the things, The things that make me think of you.
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Aug 28, 2025
Aug 28, 2025 at 6:53 PM UTC
For Katy
I’ll ask you a question A mention of my own construct Dumbstruck by the human you are This question has boundaries But boundless my concepts Cut down trees, erase all the nonsense Make sure I’ve got your full attention My luck I’ll be testing Look I’ve got a confession I don’t know what will be the question. Hands up if you’re going crazy Hands up if you want to get involved Hands up if you’re going crazy Hands up if you feel like you’ve been absolved I don’t know what will be the question. My mouth is sewn shut Got a head full of stardust Now shall we all start the session? Butterflies inside my gut A cocoon for my construct I still don’t know what will be the question. Hands up if you’re going crazy Hands up if you want to get involved Hands up if you’re going crazy Hands up if you feel like you’ve been absolved I don’t know what will be the question.
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Apr 22, 2025
Apr 22, 2025 at 2:45 AM UTC
The Question
I look up; The mighty ships Drift slowly hither. They stop for a while, Looming over the plains Attacking the fields, And the meadows, And the gardens. A beautiful attack, Alleviating despair. The fresh scent of the Earth And fragrances from the new blooms Fill the air; It is as if this landscape Just learned of colour. But the ships anchor not, For they must bring life and hope elsewhere too, And they drift slowly thither.
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Oct 26, 2024
Oct 26, 2024 at 9:26 AM UTC
Vessels of Life
On world poetry day I'm a tortured poet When my ambiguous words And meanings Touch your soul
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Mar 21, 2024
Mar 21, 2024 at 2:07 PM UTC
Tortured Poet
You kept sending me mixed signals A week ago, you were telling me you miss me Now you're saying you wanna call it quits Remember when you joked about being obsessed with me lately? I so badly wanted to know what changed between you being sober and after a bottle of gin
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Feb 8, 2022
Feb 8, 2022 at 9:45 PM UTC
ambiguous
Do you ever just pine for someone? The way they smile while talking to a loved one That bright and easy laugh, the gleam in their eye, the knowing...the realization that you're watching them enjoy themselves from across the room Or maybe you're just a spectral spectator Flipping through photo albums, looking through photos that are a permanent snapshot A moment in time A second A few minutes Of them smiling among a gathering of friends They're so happy, they're so brightened and unassuming in their youthful zeal You can hear the bursts of laughter The peals of it Disjointed conversations among friends Maybe one or two have passed on Maybe they just lost touch with them But you look at them now All the same You really look at them You realize that they've changed so much from the person they were in those pictures No more bright laughter No more infectious smiles No more disjointed conversations with gatherings of friends No more college bar hopping No more wandering the backstreets of Venice at night Or Rome Or Britain Or Germany No more spontaneous traveling The light is dim now in their eyes It's like the bulb inside of them has burned out So... You pine for them, for the person that they were yesterday, & days before, & years before you entered their life After your arrival, came a burial Somewhere along the way With the unspoken hurt & unprocessed trauma They died And so ... You grieve
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Nov 9, 2021
Nov 9, 2021 at 10:47 PM UTC
& so you grieve
I I was told that faces persist, could wear away pebble, wind, and sand. Rivers, long and winding, and the rain, always so strange, mingle with rippling ashes of our ancestors, their fingers dipping through charcoal powder, tracing animals over stone’s face, carving bodies out of empty space, faded faces on walls. We are not a dream, they were saying. Not flashes of an aged old dream. Sand-like memory, look for us.
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Apr 21, 2021
Apr 21, 2021 at 11:27 AM UTC
Dream Logic
Filters litter the ground around me, Slowly they fall to the abyss. Waiting for time around me, To go amiss. We wait for the filters to fall, so we may see reality once. And all the while, it leaves us behind
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Dec 18, 2020
Dec 18, 2020 at 12:33 PM UTC
Filters
Within the seconds between night And day, In dusk and in dawn, I dwell in the grey And balance the moon with the sun.
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May 26, 2020
May 26, 2020 at 1:14 AM UTC
Grey
"Pillar, pillar, pillar". Gosh who am I kidding? "Support". Maybe you're my stability? Falling, however, through your aid. Upwards and downwards, With and without you. The latter seems fair, though the former too don't. So, or help me
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Dec 24, 2019
Dec 24, 2019 at 2:39 PM UTC
pillar
The cigarette was trailing down my throat like a ten-inch tapeworm It was grounded, the bright look she gave. I projected my disgust onto the rain. This was my one shot to make a garden.
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Jul 27, 2019
Jul 27, 2019 at 10:24 PM UTC
Fresh & Hazy
She’s a book. No not a paperback, but a hardcover. An inviting sight, yet cold to the touch. The scent of woody pages lingers, the edges never ceasing to cut your grazing finger when you least expect it. Her intricate words, unnecessarily bewildering Her methaphorical phrases will have your head throbbing as you so desperately search for their meanings. “Daedalian”, she would say, “As in ingenious, intricate, and confusing” You spend hours figuring how to unravel her Delphic words. The more you read the more complex she gets. A thin line appears in the middle of her spine, a crack, from being opened and closed too much. Her exhausted pages tattered and dog eared. Your determination to solve her was no match for her ambiguity. She’s a hardcover you’ll never finish reading.
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Apr 2, 2019
Apr 2, 2019 at 12:20 PM UTC
She.
Hush little baby, don't run away Mama's gonna see you another day And if that time is too much to bear, Papa's gonna buy you a new blue chair keep that blue chair close to you I'll need it for the day you say "I do" Shh little baby, wipe away those tears There is something that you need to hear                                                                                     I'll love seeing you again                                                                                                      remember that                                                                                             It might be too soon                                                                                                 for you to accept,                                                                                                                      but                                                                                                                          ...                                                                                                                            .                                                                                                     She's dead *
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Feb 18, 2019
Feb 18, 2019 at 3:01 PM UTC
Hush Little Baby
Hush little baby, don't run away Mama's gonna see you another day And if that time is too much to bear, Papa's gonna buy you a new blue chair keep that blue chair close to you I'll need it for the day you say "I do" Shh little baby, wipe away those tears There is something that you need to hear                                                                                     I'll love seeing you again                                                                                                      remember that                                                                                             It might be too soon                                                                                                 for you to accept,                                                                                                                      but                                                                                                                          ...                                                                                                                            .                                                                                                     She's dead *
Continue reading...
16
The city knows I'm no angel. Please, darling, I say to the skyscrapers, If you don't like who I am, you'll like who I could be I carved a map of Manhattan into my shoulder blades. Unhinge my jaw into a smile (oh my what big teeth you have) The truth is I'm terrible at this. All these Working Class Angels, their rabbity pulse beneath their skins (I wonder if they taste like it too) Cruel hungry city, I feel your streets closing in, your lamplights lurch forwards waiting for a ******
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Nov 11, 2018
Nov 11, 2018 at 9:55 PM UTC
Working Class Angels
I wonder where your mind takes you when you're silent. I wonder what your voice says to you when you're in bed or what scenarios could be playing in your head. Do you think of something new and exciting? Something logical or political? Do you think about only yourself or others too? Or do you think of something impossible to understand but not for you. I wonder how you approach your mind, I wonder what secrets you hide: I wonder about the thoughts that comfort you in sadness, saves you from madness. The thoughts that give you balance and guidance, maintenance and sustenance. I wonder what dreams you dream while you sleep, What thoughts do you hear while you're unconscious and defenseless. I wonder what really is in your heart, because the answers to these questions is what truly sets us apart.
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Oct 24, 2018
Oct 24, 2018 at 9:11 AM UTC
I Wonder Who You Really Are
I’d rather honestly Spill my feelings With my words Than, Rely on Ambiguous actions
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Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 6:46 PM UTC
Candor vs. Ambiguity
What's eleven minutes to me? Not a thing. I have plenty of minutes. Eleven minutes I shall spend. What's eleven minutes to me? It's worth something. But I can't help myself. Eleven minutes I shall spend again. What's eleven minutes to me? A waste. At this stage, countless minutes I'll never get back. Eleven minutes I wish I still had. What's eleven minutes to me? I'm afraid I can't answer that. It's not that I don't want to. I physically can't. Because I am no longer physical.
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Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 11:23 PM UTC
Eleven Minutes.
A feather flutters to the floor, And as it lands I hear it roar. Scrape of talons on the bark, A sonic boom here in the dark. Through the night two lovers run, Wishing for warmth from the sun. But when I say the night is done, The love is gone, there's only one. With two the darkness is exciting, Absorb the flesh and let the night in. With one the stars seem only frightening, Blinded by the day, can't let the light in. One thing to do, to stumble on, To sing the magpie's lonely song.
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Feb 15, 2018
Feb 15, 2018 at 2:56 AM UTC
There's Only One
Day in day out I ask myself The same question again and again I have an answer but don't speak out How am I feeling? Why am I holding on? Why do I want to listen but not talk? People tell me I'm optimistic How can I not be? When I have to use every smile as a stepping stone A stepping stone that I have to preserve I need to be like that To see another tomorrow
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Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 4:40 PM UTC
Ask me again