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 Oct 2024 Jill
Ken Pepiton
Doorkeeper,
where can I find an attention spanner?

Wrenching the nose, brings forth blood,
so it don't freeze, yawn and rub eustacy
from your wide open heavily hooded eyes

Eutopian Earthian Mind Schemes,
not dreams, moral equivalency resets/upgrade

Free any ostiarius,
and find doors open
in the realm of curiosity,

the bane of short attention,
at tenere, eh, stretch

the fabric of reality just so far, the bubble
we be sayin' wagwan like a password, pops

and what is going on, lets any enter, imagining

this exclusive, exceptionalist aweformed bubble…

when a reader re ads attention tension,
pop, the idea that was the weasle,
offers a way to say this and get free. An ostiarius,
freed from slavery when we read the idle teacher

of decolonizing clogged cognitive colons…

and the sweet persuaders remind us whose time\

Yours, we took this much attention,
but you can still use it, we sorta cloned you.
I did not know this, now we both do:
An ostiarius, a Latin word sometimes anglicized as ostiary but often literally translated as porter or doorman, originally was an enslaved person or guard posted at the entrance of a building, similarly to a gatekeeper.

In the Roman Catholic Church, this "porter" became the lowest of the four minor orders prescribed by the Council of Trent. This was the first order a seminarian was admitted to after receiving the tonsure. The porter had in ancient times the duty of opening and closing the church-door and of guarding the church, especially to ensure no unbaptised persons would enter during the Eucharist. Later on, the porter would also guard, open and close the doors of the sacristy, baptistry and elsewhere in the church.
 Oct 2024 Jill
South-by-Southwest
Of motorcycles
and October 29th
Macon , Georgia
1971
Everything came undone
Stunned !
Duane Allman died 53 years ago
 Oct 2024 Jill
Anais Vionet
(A 'thought piece' I wrote in high school)

Ok, I'm not paid to think (like the TV shouting heads), I have no real voice (vote), and certainly no credentials - but I'm as invested in America as any high-school citizen can be. I've pledged allegiance 3000 times (hhmm.. do they doubt our loyalty?) and when it comes to loving America, I'd have to say my classmates and I are at the center of the spell.

I'm afraid we're growing up in the age of hate.. the age of phony outrage where each position large or small is high noon and violence is underfoot even when policing ordinary citizens.

We won't address the multitude of old problems in this new age.. we'll just unleash a marquetry of half truths to dispute the proven until unreasoned arguments reach their paranoid fullness.

The real world is alarming enough - lets just push that away and ignore it - while we're at it lets **** shame the poor, the old, the sick, the unemployed, the hungry and the hand of mercy.

I realize America was never one moral atom bonded for better.. but those anvils that forged us appear neglected or forsaken. I'm afraid what's happening now, what we're seeing and hearing now, is a symphony of erosion - that by the time I have any say at all, the middle class will be gone - america turned slum - where even the voice of despair will be turned traitor.

We'll only be able to see our greatness in museum souvenir shops where nothing is affordable and everything is made elsewhere.
This was one of the short essays for my Yale application. I post it now as an election classic 🙃
 Oct 2024 Jill
Persephone II
An existence of a woman
Was never to be found
Not in its true form
She was not treated to peace
For too many
A woman
Any woman
to him
To them
Was merely
Merely
A show
A performance for others
A lipstick meant to be worn
And kissed away
 Oct 2024 Jill
Odd Odyssey Poet
The sky's cheeks touched by a dream –  
Blushing softly and bashfully, in shades
Of pink.

As our love ascends –
You are my heavens; embraced,
Radiating in soft shades of pink.
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