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 Jan 2018 J P
Left Foot Poet
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inspired by a conversation with Maira Kalman


******* a name, adopt a persona, let my fingers do the talking,
place the instrumental sharp point tip upon the blankety blank paper,
maestro baton raised, coordinating,
the first sound, the vocal chords trembling,  
the first thought, the ultrasound image, entrance of a first violin,
coalescing into, into the initializing single primary phonation,
the stinging geometry of chance at last,
throwing  down the gauntlet, glove slapping, and the
tendons tense, the mouth opens, release and indentation,
a letter's curvature, a black and white downward stroking,
a sign is televised, revealed and released

a one way only sign

time bends knee, gravity suspended, terror morphs to
expelling rapid firefights of imagery needy for spacing,
even pauses mid-word  leave just this:

where is the in in
intimate?

are you the in in
inmate,
or the jailor at the gate?

you swear never again

until committing once more,

a sentence commutation, by committing a first sentence,

and the greater toll taken and paid for,

and the in in in-nate,
questions your sanity

happily


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9/17/17 10:55pm
 Jan 2018 J P
Carlie Sims
unhealled
 Jan 2018 J P
Carlie Sims
in order to heal you have to know what broke you
yet nothing has broke me
at least not that i know of
i am unhealed
i am clueless
i guess ill just stay broken
 Jan 2018 J P
solfang
I hate it when -
the sun rejected
love from the cloud;
and made it
cry every day
during the monsoon,

And yet
the sun still tries
to shine brightly
over the clouds
as if the storm
never happened.
My love was not justified, and will never happen.
Found this old poem lying somewhere in my documents.
 Jan 2018 J P
E. E. Cummings
who knows if the moon’s
a baloon,coming out of a keen city
in the sky—filled with pretty people?
(and if you and i should

get into it,if they
should take me and take you into their baloon,
why then
we’d go up higher with all the pretty people

than houses and steeples and clouds:
go sailing
away and away sailing into a keen
city which nobody’s ever visited,where

always
            it’s
                   Spring)and everyone’s
in love and flowers pick themselves
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