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"evacuations" poems
Writer's block again, and from return; my heart descends. A knock, at the door? What are they here for? Hiding in the floors, the deaths of my enemies, a funeral of my thoughts, and they were meant to stay away. Yet you wished them here, just so you can write them. And they want you near, so you can recite them. Insightful, isn't it? You need to invite them in, and this time; they'll only stay for the titles and poetry, no. You're much too confident that you can kick them out, you need them; and they want you. Next evacuation; hopefully you'll choose yourself, but we know you never do-
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Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 11:21 PM UTC
Evacuations; Evaluations
A morning philosophical conversation approached the hard euthanasia question.. A saddened room as several with tears recounted their special tragedies.. their own close life endings.. Other reflections revolved around considerations of laws and rights.. troubled preferences for dark decisions made now... An afternoon wildfire with exploding fury a sudden jump of canyon walls raged into a city surprised.. Mass evacuations.. decisions right now.. demands of how to choose life.. Still many transfixed by the terrible beauty.. orange..billowing.. burning.. chaos... Assessments reach both forward and back.. questions of rehearsals for future nows.. inadequacies of many decisions past.. Somehow in our heat today.. a continuing blaze not yet contained.. new awareness..an urgent plea.. to experience life's beauty and constricting pain.. already enclosed in an expectant now...
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Jun 28, 2012
Jun 28, 2012 at 1:56 PM UTC
Two Tracks
35,088 feet over Nebraska,   (Nebraska-imagining me climbing a ladder, me upwards, Jacob’s angels coming down, off to a high school All Saints wrestling match in a cornfield town) a place not on my bucket list, just a blue bias of an eastern stater’s unknowns, a sure sign of how much he doesn’t know reading Patti’s slender volume “Devotion” slender like her body, some would call it a wiry woman's sparse but directed, connective, word-worshipping, old familiar strangers she delivers to you that you have never met, her phraseology striking me and strikingly beautiful simultaneous scan it and understanding instantaneous she asking, why do we write? her answers are fine copper wire threaded into a coil and I close it quick cause the loving ****** desire to plagiarize such an oddly gorgeous offerings is overwhelming; I feel the wire words piercing my temple, intending to emerge out the other side, a decorative symmetry, I don’t own my need to script some cursive on my smooth body parts, on my god-given papyrus, always at the ready, is a methadone itch, a dulling urge needy for fulfillment, that needs satisfying but me, soundly second rate, write like the flip side of a hit vinyl record, no one is expected to play, fulfillment meets futility thus the title is a modification of a Patti light touch my alchemy never made any gold and my present presence now over Iowa a reminder that my prescriptions are 1200  evacuations; they are negative commandments, proscriptions, not prescriptions do not write, do not wrong words with a middling diffidence, hide your face and put her words on a shelf above your head hard to reach, so you do not be tempted why do we write? “All seeking an emptiness to imbue with words.   The words that will penetrate ****** territory, crack unclaimed combinations, articulate the infinite.” Patti Smith disambiguation she relieves us of uncertainty my combinations over Waterloo, Illinois are ordinary smokestack gray, a spewing wastage, the angels conforming that my words Cain-fail, my confession meets no one’s standards, not even mine 7:07pm Central Time
0
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 8:47 PM UTC
The Patti Smith Poems: The Alchemy of His Prescriptions
35,088 feet over Nebraska,   (Nebraska-imagining me climbing a ladder, me upwards, Jacob’s angels coming down, off to a high school All Saints wrestling match in a cornfield town) a place not on my bucket list, just a blue bias of an eastern stater’s unknowns, a sure sign of how much he doesn’t know reading Patti’s slender volume “Devotion” slender like her body, some would call it a wiry woman's sparse but directed, connective, word-worshipping, old familiar strangers she delivers to you that you have never met, her phraseology striking me and strikingly beautiful simultaneous scan it and understanding instantaneous she asking, why do we write? her answers are fine copper wire threaded into a coil and I close it quick cause the loving ****** desire to plagiarize such an oddly gorgeous offerings is overwhelming; I feel the wire words piercing my temple, intending to emerge out the other side, a decorative symmetry, I don’t own my need to script some cursive on my smooth body parts, on my god-given papyrus, always at the ready, is a methadone itch, a dulling urge needy for fulfillment, that needs satisfying but me, soundly second rate, write like the flip side of a hit vinyl record, no one is expected to play, fulfillment meets futility thus the title is a modification of a Patti light touch my alchemy never made any gold and my present presence now over Iowa a reminder that my prescriptions are 1200  evacuations; they are negative commandments, proscriptions, not prescriptions do not write, do not wrong words with a middling diffidence, hide your face and put her words on a shelf above your head hard to reach, so you do not be tempted why do we write? “All seeking an emptiness to imbue with words.   The words that will penetrate ****** territory, crack unclaimed combinations, articulate the infinite.” Patti Smith disambiguation she relieves us of uncertainty my combinations over Waterloo, Illinois are ordinary smokestack gray, a spewing wastage, the angels conforming that my words Cain-fail, my confession meets no one’s standards, not even mine 7:07pm Central Time
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39
fires in colorado central blazes and extending fingers.. manitou and other evacuations shelters filling animals retreating smoke billowing community responding air and ground resistance order and chaos finding each other.. a summer burden dry mountains waldo canyon others nine fires now perfect fire storm pray for rain...
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Jun 24, 2012
Jun 24, 2012 at 4:28 PM UTC
fires
you deserve better. better than my careless, random, probing texts. better than the pain you've felt. i deserve better. better than your dry, annoyed texts. better than the emptiness you left me with. remember when we were together? 9 long months. i was 14, a child really. you were 17. we didn't mind. it was after my incident, i was still healing. but you, you affected me deeply. we didn't start slow, no, we dived in, holding our breath, because we needed each other. remember when we kissed for the first time? 3 days after we met. it was past midnight, we were out exploring. i stuck my body through the sun roof and i smiled so much it hurt in the best way. we came back to your house, no one was home. and i looked at you, and you laughed. then your mouth was on mine and we lay there, hours, kissing with a passion i craved. remember my first flashback? 2 months in. we were in bed, cuddling with no one home. we were content. my therapist warned me, anything could happen. i didn't even think, and it was only your hand on my hip, pulling me tight, and i froze like a cold hand gripped my heart. you held me loosely while i cried, a pain i didn't know i had, a pain i didn't know needed to be let out. remember your truck? 3 months between us. how the stars were amazing, so we went "exploring," we thought we were clever. we went up a mountain, holding hands while you drove. when we parked, we climbed into the bed of the truck with blankets. we laughed and talked and thought, this is forever. at least i did. remember our first sleepover? our parents gave in after 4 months. we stayed at your house, when your mom was gone. i was naive, yet you didn't mind. the hot tub was perfect, the wine we stole from the hidden cupboard just right for the moment. we showered together, then climbed into bed. we learned a lot, that warm, luxurious night. remember my birthday? 5 months after our kiss. there was a bad fire at home, lots of evacuations, lots of smoke and fear. we left and went to the city to get away. we stayed together, you and me, by ourselves. you made me special that day. you, it was you that my world revolved around, you, you that i never wanted to leave. my birthday is one of my favorite days of you and me. remember when i had to go back to court? 8 months, almost done. the day i found out, you  came and picked me up. i cried. you didn't know how to help. you held my hand. i was helpless, ruined, depressed. we stayed together all night, and you held me with a nervous expression on your face, it was one of the worst memories. 9 months. you and me. i love you. you loved me. you left me before court on my own betrayed. i loved you.
0
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 12:40 PM UTC
9 months featuring LJ
you deserve better. better than my careless, random, probing texts. better than the pain you've felt. i deserve better. better than your dry, annoyed texts. better than the emptiness you left me with. remember when we were together? 9 long months. i was 14, a child really. you were 17. we didn't mind. it was after my incident, i was still healing. but you, you affected me deeply. we didn't start slow, no, we dived in, holding our breath, because we needed each other. remember when we kissed for the first time? 3 days after we met. it was past midnight, we were out exploring. i stuck my body through the sun roof and i smiled so much it hurt in the best way. we came back to your house, no one was home. and i looked at you, and you laughed. then your mouth was on mine and we lay there, hours, kissing with a passion i craved. remember my first flashback? 2 months in. we were in bed, cuddling with no one home. we were content. my therapist warned me, anything could happen. i didn't even think, and it was only your hand on my hip, pulling me tight, and i froze like a cold hand gripped my heart. you held me loosely while i cried, a pain i didn't know i had, a pain i didn't know needed to be let out. remember your truck? 3 months between us. how the stars were amazing, so we went "exploring," we thought we were clever. we went up a mountain, holding hands while you drove. when we parked, we climbed into the bed of the truck with blankets. we laughed and talked and thought, this is forever. at least i did. remember our first sleepover? our parents gave in after 4 months. we stayed at your house, when your mom was gone. i was naive, yet you didn't mind. the hot tub was perfect, the wine we stole from the hidden cupboard just right for the moment. we showered together, then climbed into bed. we learned a lot, that warm, luxurious night. remember my birthday? 5 months after our kiss. there was a bad fire at home, lots of evacuations, lots of smoke and fear. we left and went to the city to get away. we stayed together, you and me, by ourselves. you made me special that day. you, it was you that my world revolved around, you, you that i never wanted to leave. my birthday is one of my favorite days of you and me. remember when i had to go back to court? 8 months, almost done. the day i found out, you  came and picked me up. i cried. you didn't know how to help. you held my hand. i was helpless, ruined, depressed. we stayed together all night, and you held me with a nervous expression on your face, it was one of the worst memories. 9 months. you and me. i love you. you loved me. you left me before court on my own betrayed. i loved you.
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55
while nothing is like usual no more fires burning with evacuations this global thing and the other things
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Jul 4, 2022
Jul 4, 2022 at 1:30 AM UTC
. burning .
Until this morning my daughter was safe For so the city said But the waters rose, slithering up her stairs And still the city said she was safe She was evacuated, first by canoe Then by an air-boat Then by a dump truck She and another evacuee laughed in the rain: “Now we are the people they take pictures of” Then by a bus To a center at Saint Martha’s Church and School Where someone said she would be bussed again This time to downtown Houston, for reasons Best known to some stupid *** of a ***** Her friend’s husband with his big ol’ pickup Worked around barriers and through high water And they escaped up the road to Willis, Texas Tomorrow I will be honored to shake his hand Long ago, when she left home, I promised That an old man and two little dachshunds Would wait for her.  I’m even older now With grand-dachshunds  – but we said we would wait And we have Best I can do at the moment Tears of gratitude Deo gratias
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Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 8:11 PM UTC
Flood Evacuations