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#overseas
The vines do not sprawl. Early in their lives, they are told where to stop. Wire, post, distance—nothing survives by accident. Frost touches the leaves with the care of a verdict. I walk the rows learning restraint as a language: measure, patience, adherence. Even the hills agree excess is unbecoming. What I carry does not speak here. It is reduced to numbers, to instructions whispered, to something kept rather than confessed.
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Dec 19, 2025
Dec 19, 2025 at 1:24 AM UTC
Rows
Two weeks ago, I said farewell. To my home. To my country. To my family and friends. My time away was relaxing. The people were lovely. But honestly, I'm dealing with re-entry. People expect me to just fit in, But I'm suffering from jet lag, And am ready to sleep. If I could just catch a break, A week, maybe two. I could get back to normal, Get my life back on track. But no. This is the problem; Life goes on, A sink or swim situation. If you can't catch up, You're out. Just like that.
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Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 1:31 AM UTC
Re-entry Syndrome
To know he is my soulmate Is the same as to know, That the grass under my feet is green There is no trace of doubt in my mind As if the world is yelling “yes” to my very being, Into every fiber of my body His love trickles in more and more each day Like soft rain soaking into my hair Everything I say to him he must already know For something magical has told him so To explain is so simple, yet From the outside world misunderstood To feel this way which never once I have felt before, so in love is one thing But in love and so free My body misses him so, as he says to me Yet our hands have not yet touched Reaching from across the sea Like we have been in love once before Many times is my only guess I have never felt so calm and in love, Like the same feeling you get when holding Something so pure and innocent like a newborn I feel a flow of love which will never disappear
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Jun 1, 2017
Jun 1, 2017 at 8:26 PM UTC
him
MELANIA TRUMP WONT HOLD MY HAND I LOVE YOU MY DARLING ITS TRUE WE ARE ON THIS IMPORTANT TRIP I WANT TO HOLD YOUR HAND I DO JUST KEEP YOUR MIND ON THE JOB DONALD AND LEAVE MY HAND ALONE JUST CONCENTRATE ON YOUR DUTIES YOU CAN HOLD IT WHEN WE GET HOME PLEASE DONALD YOU MUST MAKE A GREAT SPEECH YOU MUST ALSO PRAY AT THE WALL AS I SAID BEFORE DON'T HOLD MY HAND JUST PLEASE FOLLOW THE BOUNCY BALL
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May 28, 2017
May 28, 2017 at 6:28 PM UTC
DON'T HOLD MY HAND DONALD
I feel at one with sweethearts Through the years, With the wartime lovers Who went overseas, All the shattered hearts, All the rivers of tears, I feel them all. Verses of love, Lovers who must part, Portraits of love Worn so very close to the heart, All the lovers lost, Loves that never even start, I feel them all.
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Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 2:01 AM UTC
All the Rivers of Tears
On the train to Haifa I think about my father in wartime Palestine, a different time, a different name but the same place. His memories of oranges and beaches and warm, Mediterranean swimming are the times he chose to rescue from the six years when the world was drowning in its own blood. The weather is blue and grey but the sun shines like my father’s medals on his blue-grey air force uniform that entranced me as a child. As the helicopter gunships prowl over Mount Carmel, speeding north to Lebanon, I wonder what times I will choose to rescue from a land built out of longing, but paid for in blood.
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Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 11:49 PM UTC
POEM ON MY FATHER'S BIRTHDAY