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 Mar 13 Arlen
ok okay
Numb
 Mar 13 Arlen
ok okay
A fractured smile
And telling eyes
The depths of my dreams
Fell through empty skies
I rise above the earth
The noise transcends to silence

Darkness giving birth
As peace replaces violence

If only from up here
The big becomes the small

Gently falls a tear
The absurdity of it all
I long for the world to be civilized
 Mar 8 Arlen
Marla
Writing poetry isn’t as easy as it used to be
With the world as it is nowadays.  

Our bodies have changed—
Lungs struggling to breathe,
Neurons fighting for relief.
Plans for a perfect life
Titled into bitter disarray
As hope flies off a cliff-face
& hearts sink into dismay.

Martyrs ascending daily—
Victims of the imperial machine.
Lands stripped bare of wealth
In the name of corporate greed.

What of the women & children?
The innocent? Trans people?
Lesbians & gays? Is it really all
A question of orientation, gender,
***, & melanin in the skin?

Will we ever overcome these
Aggressions that grow from
Within our injured selves
& rid the planet of rampant
Evil before it rids itself of us?
If you’ve given up, try again.
 Mar 7 Arlen
Francis
My open window bears a gaping hole,
Welcoming and whining the sounds of my soul,
A tasteful mesh of stormy delight,
In a moment so blissfully lonesome tonight.  

Whirls of wind that plow through the trees,
Rain drops pouring and ******* wherever it may please,
Slight brisk drafts of air cooling me at ease,
In this hot, oven-like bedroom, while I cough and sneeze.

Alarm clock sets for the dawn of tomorrow,
I lay here filled with bouts of sorrow,
How this beat of peace is simply a borrow,
Due to this I whimper, whine, and willfully wallow.

The openness of my window, this gaping frame,
The darkness of my bedroom, delightfully same,
Provides sense of solitude in this world, without blame,
I complain not a lick that this is the name of my game.
This New York storm be crazy rn and I’m laying with ease.
 Mar 3 Arlen
Danny Wolf
I haven’t been able to make my bed
But I ate breakfast

I haven’t been able to clean out my car
But I haven’t faltered on taking my dog to hike, play, explore

I haven’t been able to organize the shelf in my room
But I rubbed lavender tallow deep beyond my skin

I have been in this threshold
Between what can wait and what matters

I haven’t been able to even think about looking for another job
But I put out a book of poetry
(And it feels so small an act)

I hold the standard high,
But differently these days.
I am cluttered,
I can’t hold onto many things for too long
But there are things, my dog, rebellion, prayer, that no longer need holding.
I held them so long we merged.
They are marrow, cells, blood.

I haven’t been choosing to do those things,
actually.
I am able - without question I could pick up the pile of clothes in the corner of my room
and fold my socks.
But it just doesn’t matter enough.
There is weight-
Things to cry about,
and I have to, I must, call my mom if I am going to be okay.

So my bed, the pile of clothes, my car, can exist as they are.
There is no harm in mess when it can be cleaned later.
But my body, my dog, my heart, the genocides,
Require me.

So much feels fickle in the face of the grief and love I bear.
The grief
I want to plant.
I want to get my hands ***** in its power.
I want it to know my name.
The love-
Oh the love.
I cannot tell you of its expanse.
I can only bring you into the flood,
Show you the mountain,
Let you feel the sun.
Speak of the devil
he will appear
Trailing your thoughts
relining your fears

Tail of the dragon
wages of sin
Your ninth life in ashes
— fire within

(Dreamsleep: February, 2024)
 Feb 28 Arlen
Corbyn
Dear Testosterone,
You made me sweaty, ***** and sometimes angry too
But I would be lying if I could say I know what I’d do without you
You changed my life from the outside in
Showed me that living as my true self is not living in sin
Each month I’m amazed by how much change I see
In my face, my voice, my hair and all of me
 Feb 24 Arlen
colette alexia
I imagine that you're happy
And laughing
With people I've never seen

I picture that you're working
Or still searching
Maybe applied for a new degree

Whatever it may be
For you I imagine good things

I don't think you'll go home
Back up to that small town
Until you're ready to settle down

And even then I
Wonder if you'll fit in
I always thought your heart was too big for Asotin

I know that's where you grew up
Know that's where your loved ones
Built that new house so pretty on the river

I imagine you with big dreams
I see everything you could be
And I find it reassuring

Whatever it may be
For you I imagine good things
2.01.2024
 Feb 23 Arlen
Ann
keep your eyes closed love.

           e     t      
       m           i
    o                 m
s                        e  
                            s     all you have to
                                                                ­
                                                                ­ l                  to is what the sound
                                                           ­      i            n
                                                  ­                s           e
                                                               ­          t

                                                              ­                               v
                                                               ­                         a        e
                             ­                                          of the  w               s
                                                               ­                                       
                         ­                                                                 ­            tells  you
                                                                ­                                        to do.
"Keep your eyes closed, love. sometimes all you have to listen is to what the sound of the waves tells you to do."

When I was much younger, beaches were my second favorite places. I still love watching waves as they go by, crashing against each other and the whole process repeating all over again.
 Feb 21 Arlen
glass
despite popular belief
your hands do not bend the light of the sun
your lips do not pour truth and sugar
and there are scissors in your gaze

sitting next to your decisions
i let them hold my hands
and hold my mouth on your command
six pounds of fine print
six pounds of guile
you only love me when im silent

i am not stupid
i am not a fire prince
nor will i live to earn something that you refuse to give
however there are other factors, always,
like survival

kaleidoscope collage
your cuts are carefully connected
fingers of precision and denial
this was your causing and creation
and yet your language is laced with words as if you would be hurt by my exile

perhaps it will come that you understand love
but as it stands you believe it is hunger
to love is to know to demand and control
i pity your vision of family

a sliding scale of humanity
what gives you the idea it is a choice
what makes you think there is a weight difference in voice
like you have the right to someones needs
and reserving them for trials
performance should not be required
for simple decency

and yet here we stand
in front of the pyramids
like women perhaps
but no human for miles and miles
090923
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