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Look closely at your dots and periods.
You'll see this...

. Bob Dylan .
. William Shakespeare .
. Maya Angelou . Emily Dickinson .
. Ralph Waldo Emerson . Robert Frost . Ai .
. Max Eastman . Thomas Hardy . William Blake .
. Edgar Allan Poe . Pablo Neruda . James Joyce . Ovid .
. Carl Sandberg . Anne Sexton . Taigu Ryokan . Sappho .
. Ogden Nash . Dorothy Parker . JD Salinger . Rumi .
. Dame Edith Sitwell . Mary Wollstonecraft Shelly .
. Anna Swir . Sara Teasdale . JRR Tolkien .
. Alfred Lord Tennyson . John Skelton .
. Dante Gabriel Rossetti .
. Dylan Thomas .



Soul Survivor
2014
The poets in my "dot" were chosen
at random, to fit the design.
My childhood was a dream.
Filled with monsters, mayhem, and magic,
And long sunny days
That lasted forever.
Playing cops and robbers,
Barbies,
House,
Playing, playing, playing.
Isn’t it ironic?
Back then we wanted to grow up.

When I was a kid,
My sister was my other half.
Like two peas in a pod,
We were never apart.
We fought,
We fell,
We failed,
We grew up.
Together.

I miss
The playground.
And falling asleep in one place,
Waking up in another.
And splishing, and splashing, and squealing,
Through puddles in the rain.
We were monkeys
Climbing and climbing
But never falling.

Ok.
We fell sometimes.
But at least we knew
That whenever we fell
There was always someone there to catch us.

I hope
My childhood sticks in my brain
Like gum in my hair,
That one time in first grade.
I hope
I never forget that Christmas,
When we made so many gingerbread men,
There was almost a million.
I hope
I never forget my friends.
Imaginary and real life,
My pet fishies,
Or the things that scared me.
They let me know how far I’ve come,
Cause I’m not scared of them anymore.
I hope
That my house doesn’t forget me
Cause I will never forget my home.

I did all my growing up there.

Though I guess
I’m still not done.
I wonder if
I ever will be.
On a winter's path at
twilight flits a ghost in
thin repose
gossamer, the silhouette
flights cradling
a silken rose

Drifting through the auburn
forest autumn on her
cheeks replete
furnishing love's
silent solace
drifting with the
perished leaves

she seeks you still
she'll find you not
   the petals
        f
          a
            l
              l
        and all in
                f
               r
          o
      s
t
Sometimes he let his eyes rest on hers, it needn't have been painful,
but it strangely was.
He broke a lifetime of avoiding eye contact to show her.
She was worth overcoming obstacles for.
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