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 Sep 2016 Travis Frank
Anna
rotten
 Sep 2016 Travis Frank
Anna
I plucked the blood soaked
molars from their bed,
witness the decay
growing in my head.
cavities collapse
on themselves, and yet,
I am here, standing.

scabs scratched under my
fingernails, scars made anew
stung by the sunlight,
I am on display for you.

take these shallow bones
and the hollow words,
carve my jaded eyes
and relieve this hurt
you caused when you touched.
you caused when you let
me love you this much.
 Sep 2016 Travis Frank
Poetic T
I am an individual not a duplicate or a copy
of what others wish me to be.

I am an individual
             not a duplicate
or a copy of what others
                   wish me to be, I'm my own self.

I am an
                         individual not a duplicate
or a copy of what others
                                            wish me to be,
                 I'm a repeat of what was said.
 Sep 2016 Travis Frank
L B
Route 84 would not lend me
the light of a star last night
Radio blazing at 75 mph
nonsense noise to chew gum by
Crackling political commentary
Static of distance and thick clouds
Invisible mountains blocking
Memories seeping through the cracks
coating the music in a film
I rub my eyes
watch myself punch alert buttons
But it’s the angels’ jukebox tonight

Roll down the window
Watch the heat escape

Summer again

I am building a castle of ancient stones
pulverized by relentless tides
Dragged across maps by mastodons
and mammoth glaciers
The scouring hiss
the ocean sighs
Time has lulled these smoothly
rolling them in the softest hands of sand
and gels of life’s comings and goings
tenderly tumbling
in the millionth moonrise—
Time deposits them here
wet and glistening

For the girl with the plaid two-piece to gather
Shoulders sun-burnt barely say
one week only,
one week of the fifty two
“It’s the time of the season…”
and daddies on the beach are watching….

She has chosen yet another stone
And the castle continues—
in oblivion to all but her legend…

     The queen will be safe here
     from the rabble
     The disgraced Tristan will surely seek her
     Among these lofty cliffs
     Between the raging circuit of the tide
     Here winds forbid the vengeful mob
     Here lovers learn
     the debt of love’s bad timing
     “Drink ye all of it!”
     --the potion that assigns our sorrow….
     She will not sleep—
     while I chew this gum--  GUM?

Roll down the window!

Angels escape with the heat
Waking me with the brush of their wings

As that eighteen-wheeler hugs my flank
And leans on the horn
Lights flashing
Rude rumbling under right tires
Tantrum of snow
In the draft of mass and velocity

…and the angels?
They’ve chosen another good one!
They must’ve liked the 80’s
Their wings slapping the windshield madly  
Their hands steady the wheel
As a fourteen-year old, I picked up a book to read at the beach about the legend of the lovers, Tristan and Iseult.  I was so captivated by their story that it ruled my imagination that summer.  

Anyway, I still think of it when I think of the ocean-- as I did on this cold dark occasion when I should have pulled off somewhere for a coffee, but I was trying to beat the snow storm home.
Route 84, also known as Dead Bambi Highway, has a desolate, treacherous section going over the mountains between NY and Pennsylvania.  Didn't have much option for music at the time, so I leaned heavily on the radio pushing the search button to find anything bearable-- not too much static.
Song reference in this: "Time of the Season" by the Zombies-- all time favorite beach song that happened to be on the radio that night.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RBxK3CcOQD8
The sea is grumpy
No angry
Foaming
Smashing pebbles
Battering seagulls
Roaring its cold, grey voice at the sky
On the shore I’m small as a pebble
Invisible in the grey wind
Only the rain sees me
The hovering seagull
And the angry waves
She came alive
Out in the dark
Waltzing among the trees
Treading lightly
On a blackened path
The night, it set her free
I watched
As she absorbed the stars
And held the memory
Of the girl
So at home in a place
I could barely even see
I said I'd wait a thousand years
A thousand years I've waited
The fragile seeds of hope I've hewn
Have blossomed forth-
And faded.

The span of time, the falling sand
That journeys down the glass
Has shivered down to rest against
The last wish of the past

Words I've writ of you by night
Have lightened now by day
Would that I could read them now
I'd not hear what they say.

Truthfully, the beauty of a newly conjured flame
Undeniably must end
When met with winter rain.
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