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"sloughs" poems
I feel lonesome hands approaching mine to walk me through the desert. I tense my arms against the open night sky which cannot be pushed away. I want you to love my grey skies, my pensivity that rolls across mountain ranges - the same to me as sunshine igniting streams. Just a different lens through which my creature plays with light. She is elemental and sloughs skin off the earth like lava flowing into the ocean to close its eyes. I'll eat my own tail to discover what I already know.
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May 30, 2019
May 30, 2019 at 12:55 PM UTC
No Thanks, I'll Starve
The clock was set back, and now night rots away the afternoon. Gray light spills, slouches, sloughs into my hair, my hands, across all these strangers. Ovals of alcohol keep the rain away. My life is moving stave by stave. I used to go to school, have a social circle, idle through hobbies, new days, new days. What the hell happened?
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Nov 15, 2017
Nov 15, 2017 at 2:25 PM UTC
Monday evening
She sloughs off her skin, stepping out with heavy feet to let her coffin fall around her piece by silk pale piece. Raw and bleeding, the water encases her in a liquid embrace, as calm as a mother's arms as quiet as death at midnight. Naked and alone the water turning red with truth and thoughts held close, she washes away the weighted thoughts of a future unknown. What life she must lead, to hide behind closed doors, locked against the eyes of those she so sweetly calls her dearest friends. But soon she is clean of filth and doubt and steps out into the gleaming lights of reality, facing again the impeccable glass of imperfection and truth. She denies the facts and slowly recovers, recollects the pieces of a lie formed through years of trying to belong to others. And slowly, like a geisha, she paints on a face strange and familiar, her practiced hands trembling slightly, the first crack in a porcelain mask. It is then she stops, caught on a stray thought that has crept from the depths of reddened water, the  realization that the geisha died long ago.
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Jul 18, 2012
Jul 18, 2012 at 3:54 PM UTC
Death of a Geisha
*Language is a skin: I rub my language against the other. It is as if I had words instead of fingers, or fingers at the tip of my words. My language trembles with desire. -Roland Barthes* My language is a skin I have outgrown. It sloughs off in flakes, leaving letters or the occasional ill-suited, illegible word trailing behind me. I pick at adverbs and articles hanging from my fingertips; This morning I pulled a whole phrase off my arm like a sunburn. My language, once alight, now settles like cinders on the ground, around the shower drain, upon my sheets; My language no longer serves me. Peel my vocabulary off my back, tear my diction from my shoulders, and my syntax from my chest; Scratch the punctuation off my face— my lips are chapped with parentheses. Tomorrow I will have shed my language— Unbound from an ill-fitting lexicon— coughed the alphabet from my lungs and exhaled the last serif like cigarette smoke to find the world new, uncontained and undefined.
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Apr 7, 2011
Apr 7, 2011 at 4:15 AM UTC
Language Is a Skin
Who are these? Why sit they here in twilight? Wherefore rock they, purgatorial shadows, Drooping tongues from jaws that slob their relish, Baring teeth that leer like skulls' teeth wicked? Stroke on stroke of pain, - but what slow panic, Gouged these chasms round their fretted sockets? Ever from their hair and through their hands' palms Misery swelters. Surely we have perished Sleeping, and walk hell; but who these hellish? - These are men whose minds the Dead have ravished. Memory fingers in their hair of murders, Multitudinous murders they once witnessed. Wading sloughs of flesh these helpless wander, Treading blood from lings that had loved laughter. Always they must see these things and hear them, Batter of guns and shatter of flying muscles, Carnage incomparable, and human squander Rucked too thick for these men's extrication. Therefore still their eyeballs shrink tormented Back into their brains, because on their sense Sunlight seems a blood-smear; night comes blood-black; Dawn breaks open like a wound that bleeds afresh. - Thus their heads wear this hilarious, hideous, Awful falseness of set-smiling corpses. - Thus their hands are plucking at each other; Picking at the rope-knouts of their scourging; Snatching after us who smote them, brother, Pawing us who dealt them war and madness.
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2.2k
Mental Cases
Blackbird, blackbird, whither 'way Don't come down this way in Sleek sails of five and six Hither here, two and three Come forth and fly in Through the broken glass Onyx separations carve In six wings lost to starve May the host slight the royalty Blackbird, blackbird, whither 'way Don't come down this way with Sacrificial dust from seven circling Hither here, two and three Come forth and fly in Through shattered self Onyx separations carve In six wings to starve May the way be paved Blackbird, blackbird, will I? In the serene sloughs, call Out from the dusk, ten sails high? Blackbird, blackbird Come around, see my gift And sing your song
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May 9, 2019
May 9, 2019 at 9:00 PM UTC
Wings of Omens
His ******* angel wings can no longer lift him high enough. His silhouette stands against the Morning Glory sky. He has not worn cologne until this day. Now, the perfume of kerosene coats him. His matchstick countdown has just hit zero, ignition. In flames, he launches off the edge of that crisp concrete line. He falls ten stories, what was once a man, now an effigy not of stone or wood, but flame which, wind-washed, splays out as Ringed Plover wings, ash feathers blown back. With a crash of bone and pavement, his Chinese Lantern skin the color of burnt-sienna, the blaze snuffs out. Through yellow plastic paper, the creamy skinned women rush to his side. Mother, Sister, Wife, cradle him, the fingers catch skin which sloughs off in flakes of carbon.
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May 21, 2011
May 21, 2011 at 7:42 PM UTC
Lament for Icarus
Speechless Shocked Breath gasps from a dry, raw throat Please. I beg of you. Staccato whisper. Ragged. Torn. Have mercy on the withered Dead skin sloughs off into a scaly pile I can feel my heart flutter, sputter I've been too long in the sun Blisters litter my shoulder and neck Joints grinding and empty Thoughts of thunderstorms and monsoons taunt Finally drops touch my lips Tears to my eyes I thought I had nothing left to give Relief
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Feb 29, 2012
Feb 29, 2012 at 9:35 PM UTC
Oasis
Outside in the cold dark The first snow begins to fall, Another sign of Winter’s mark. Starting slowly, gathering speed As the crescent moon rises The dark-white storm will not recede. Silently Falling Single-file Ensuring The descent Is worthwhile. Wave after cold wave The onslaught of these sub-zero flakes Sends warmth to the grave. Or, rather, it is the lack of love, That warmth, which causes snow To fall so great from up above. Then the gusty winds rush in Launching the powder with a howling whine, Cutting through coats, right to the skin. Hours later, as the falling stops And the wind dies down Snow sloughs off in audible plops. Off rooftops, trees And fences, too, A radiant white hue. Woe is the day When that fallen snow melts Turning January into May. For despite all the signs Of new beginnings, my soul Remains dark while all else shines. And I wish, with the snow, The memories of her would melt away Along with The pain she caused So long ago. Such a shame Something so beautiful Plays such a dangerous game.
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May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 9:00 PM UTC
A Snowfall Fallacy
My own skin feels ill-fitting. Like maybe it belonged to me at some point in time, But now it sloughs off my shoulders Like a hand-me-down given too early…
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Feb 11, 2022
Feb 11, 2022 at 10:51 PM UTC
Untitled
pain brought on by an apathetic existence a desire to taste chaos in the flesh i ***** my soul, dredged from the depths as death rises, creaking - a gory deity from my shattered, broken back gnashes it's filthy, cracked teeth this barbed, twisted creature rears it's ugly head as guttural growls wrench free from a torn throat - wracked with convulsions, sickeningly sheds a blood and gristle carapace reborn into rot, steaming flesh sloughs from it's face to reveal an impossible amount of needle-like teeth, stretched into a wicked grin slowly, like creeping mold, the mouth opens and regurgitated from it's putrid depths... ...a single beautiful butterfly - spun from the finest gold, inlaid with the most vibrant precious gems floating on the whisper of a breeze, it lands on my empty eyes and begins to feast
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Feb 28, 2012
Feb 28, 2012 at 4:39 PM UTC
a prophetic (?) dream
Layer after crusty layer sloughs away, revealing the truth under a painted semblance of confidence- Out there is scary, and i am Alone. Alone on my leaf of a home, when a tornado, hurricane, cyclone blows in, halts the tranquil silence of my world. Or was it just a man with a leaf blower? This can't be Kansas, Dorothy.
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Jul 11, 2011
Jul 11, 2011 at 5:00 PM UTC
a small thing in a universe so grand
_We burrow where they lie, our fallen brothers. Old sweats and fledgling crow bags, both. In death as in life, they have our back…and so we plough on into the abyss by the light of a caged phosphorus flare, hot metal spraying the midnight hour like some vengeful fay’s buckshot. A human scaffold supports us for the distance of four miles. That’s Piccadilly to Hampstead; Circus to Heath. The length of a lifetime…of  hundreds of lifetimes. In the winter when the rains come and the trenches run like a quartermaster’s latrine, the soil sloughs away to reveal the ossuary within. It is then that I, in my now customary delirium, imagine that I can reach out to shake their hand again._
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Nov 11, 2020
Nov 11, 2020 at 3:11 PM UTC
They Shall Not Grow Old | 11/11
WRITING (Reflections from My Diary) A writer becomes a writer not because he wants to write- he becomes one because he WRITES and never stops writing. It's only through the sloughs of disappointment and despair that he finally sees the light which might take years, decades or a life-time. Skills alone are not enough, nor grit or tenacity. The other qualities, (indeed I regard these as being more important) he must acquire are patience and humility. How could I ever call myself a writer? When I read the works of the masters and even those of my peers, I realise that I don't qualify to be among them. Best to regard myself as a student, an apprentice, a beginner and admirer (of all forms of art) and in this realisation I would have no choice but to write, write and write--day and night, if I wish to make any headway. Yet, I always enjoy what I do--when I write, it's as though I live in another trajectory--I'm lost in time, beauty and wonder, and the external world, with all its drabness and tedium, seems to fade away and no longer vexes me. I become a new being, I have wings, I fly to a realm I've not known before, I am free and exultant, I sing, I dance, I marvel, I LIVE! 22nd July 2017, Melbourne copyright
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Dec 2, 2018
Dec 2, 2018 at 6:34 PM UTC
WRITING (Reflections from My Diary)
Your long neck twists itself into a graceful question mark. Tall as a man your legs carry you to waters where you feed. Sloughs and ponds - even the occasional drainage ditches. You lend an elegance to the world. You do not destroy or plunder, but snack on fishy delights taken up in your sword of a bill. Blue heron, thrive. Your estuaries and flood plains are disappearing as civilization populates the earth. Pragmatists take the world as it is. Lovers of animals sorrow that one day you will be extinct. What do you add to this world? You are not a shopping mall or housing development. What you do is add grace and beauty to our world, making it a more beautiful place to live.
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Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 2:47 PM UTC
Blue Heron
in my nightmare, i walk across plain,gibberous of melted blue grey glass. in my nightmare, the voices of the four winds whisper, words fetid and foul, of love lost and left behind. in my nightmare, the sun scowls and rips the water right from my lips. and i walk on feet, of bones stripped bare. and i search, horizon to horizon but see only, blind hope mirages, fading away. and my voice echoes, in my calamitous mind, calling names of kin and kind. and my skin sloughs from my flesh, to sizzle on the ground. and inside, the cage, of xylophone ribs. a wizened walnut heart no longer beating, to ordered time. and my skull, now, a hollow drum of rattling, mutton-headed thoughts, constantly bleating. in my nightmare, i am laid bare and found wanting, needing, longing. in my nightmare, you are not there. in my nightmare there is... no one else, anywhere. in my nightmare i am alone         all alone....                       and that,     scares, the **** out of me!
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Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 9:23 PM UTC
it's just a dream
These    aches  — I  feel  them  through the      neck   and   shoulders,   tension up    through    cracks   and     crevices, like       the       way      you      left    an   impression. Fluid,  let's  move forward   swift     and     sound.     Poignant    like oceanic      waves   —   propelling!     or,   neritic    waters — upwelling!  or   even, tidal  sloughs or  currents— continuous. I   will   feel  it  all — in like water to the body, out   like   tears  from   the    eyes. Admittedly,    the  horizon  does feel far and    I  am   scared.   However,  maybe I    am    not   lost  after  all,  maybe  the journey is now  begging and  truthfully, this   does  alleviate   some  of  the  pain. © A. Leigh
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Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 6:24 PM UTC
I Feel It In My Shoulders —
Let me slip into my Queen. Appetite, Slumber, Sloughs off of her as easily as water. She passes through, to The other side of Fear In her penetrability She has no Peer Shapeless threats of the night Merely dampenings of light Let me slip on my frigid Queen. Mortal fears free of her lease Reign wild, at the very least But before my Queen They quiver, shrivel, Into a sheen Of ice, from sniffling drivel. Her countenance a light deadpan, Her governance, her birthright, tends A sooty silence, A dumb penance, Mum.
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Jul 18, 2024
Jul 18, 2024 at 9:01 AM UTC
Intent
The skin sloughs ever so slowly As it parts from the blade and body Slipping into the pail of past identity On top I can see the newest addition Eyes burning with golden bursts Accentuated by cool emerald outlines Staring back at their owner Accusatory The narrow pupil dilated in question "Why go blind?" I ignored the orbs Instead turning back to the business At hand Where I was carefully removing Fingernails and thumbprints One by one joining the flesh That had once been me My eyes glared at me I stared back Empty sockets dripping Drip Drip "Never have I seen more clearly For without my skin I truly feel Without my eyes I cannot cry Nor nails nor prints to conceal The real me is not outside He's inside wanting only to heal"
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Jul 11, 2017
Jul 11, 2017 at 1:24 PM UTC
Shedding
frail i, in moonlight shall, march up wisp of spring into gabled spilt juice of curving dawn orange whose rind like the human also drys withers sloughs
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May 21, 2012
May 21, 2012 at 1:14 AM UTC
Untitled
1/16/2016 The days drag themselves succinct, akimbo- spitting out the day in spurts and steadily vomiting the night. I am never afraid of death in the winter. And so when I sit in bed and out of the corner of my eye I see it- death has always been a sort of white rabbit, I once felt I was one crushed in a young girls' hands, having to carry that burden for the rest of her life I don't want to say that I missed innocence, in fact, I want the pleasure of losing it again (Fitzgerald) I read so much Fitzgerald that year perhaps because I felt my life was on some sort of side of Paradise. Was clumsily and unbearably in love, Princeton summers, Was quite unloved New York autumns, Was throughly confused New York winters. The men come at us, fling themselves like a screeching jungle animal of a kind But we don't care, we sit in the park fermenting like we usually do but still the men laugh still they come at us while our skin sloughs off our faces and we tell them "I'm dying, don't come any closer" I felt like my face being ripped off once but I didn't try to do anything about it of course.
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Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 12:43 AM UTC
Easton avenue
a blue whale's eye sloughs ocean water. as the limitless rain that skied it open.
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Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 1:24 AM UTC
Blue Whale's Eye
Joy and similar discontents break wheaten on the all-weather radial steel-reinforced sidewall hum, on the defog rasping for a service call; Break on the near treeless plain stitched loose to the sky with rivets of silos and grain bins - clouds dive porpoise behind the rise. Joy and similar discontents hang like flowers on a bleach wood cross surviving another winter to tread sobbing on the green ditch water. Every X and Y coordinate of the plains etched by gravel side-ways and field entries too rutted and ragged to suit the conglomerate need or the tilt houses and stripped clapboard banging against the thistle, milkweed and swallowed dreams in the foxgrass, with turkey buzzards circling thermal overhead. But the crows plunge faster into red fresh carrion sloughs of whitetail and **** to breach at the presence of a larger scavenging - and each bent marker tells its own tale. Count the bullet holes and shotgun splatter in the stops and yields when the road was empty, when the night was dry, when the callous boys had time on their hands instead of hog blood and badger-eyed girls that left after graduation for the starless haze, crowded parades, sidewalk shops, umbrellas on the rain side of things keeping each at arm's length. But it was never about the city, never about the glitz and pizzazz of everything running baffled into gridlock; less about the thick dumb flannel boys. It was always about that low fog, the night eyes in the beams, the manure, chaff and split seams of the midwest furrows, the haybales that bob like rafts over the horizon.
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Jul 30, 2019
Jul 30, 2019 at 4:38 PM UTC
Plainsong
Joy and similar discontents break wheaten on the all-weather radial steel-reinforced sidewall hum, on the defog rasping for a service call; Break on the near treeless plain stitched loose to the sky with rivets of silos and grain bins - clouds dive porpoise behind the rise. Joy and similar discontents hang like flowers on a bleach wood cross surviving another winter to tread sobbing on the green ditch water. Every X and Y coordinate of the plains etched by gravel side-ways and field entries too rutted and ragged to suit the conglomerate need or the tilt houses and stripped clapboard banging against the thistle, milkweed and swallowed dreams in the foxgrass, with turkey buzzards circling thermal overhead. But the crows plunge faster into red fresh carrion sloughs of whitetail and **** to breach at the presence of a larger scavenging - and each bent marker tells its own tale. Count the bullet holes and shotgun splatter in the stops and yields when the road was empty, when the night was dry, when the callous boys had time on their hands instead of hog blood and badger-eyed girls that left after graduation for the starless haze, crowded parades, sidewalk shops, umbrellas on the rain side of things keeping each at arm's length. But it was never about the city, never about the glitz and pizzazz of everything running baffled into gridlock; less about the thick dumb flannel boys. It was always about that low fog, the night eyes in the beams, the manure, chaff and split seams of the midwest furrows, the haybales that bob like rafts over the horizon.
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mornings grow longer; another sun setting out for a coming long dark. presence of alacrity necessary. fatigued by heat, no more macadame; no more July. seeking spring and the click-clack before arrival; the walls are well-pinned and ready. presence of focus sloughs away.
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Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 8:28 AM UTC
. . part 0916
He spoke the language of birds of pickle **** and lichen and ailerons and shutter speeds Where I saw a blackbird with a spot of red on a wing He saw Agelaius Phoeniceus a passerine bird of the family Icteridae found in most of North America and much of Central America His mind and mouth were full of facts and figures about wind and lift and tides and the right time to plant and to harvest tomatoes Music and science were things to be dissected and perfected and each thing was measured and calculated and intentional like the metronome I played with on the piano in the spare room I did not always understand him I did not always try to learn a kid dabbling in punk rock and drawn to graffiti will I found it hard to relate to someone so exacting But while I do not remember his laugh I do remember his joy at explaining the circuitry in a handmade airplane or the minutiae of the wondrous geometric cellular structure of a pine cone A hike in the sloughs and I ran ahead while he kneeled and saw a tiny marvel, a flower or a lizard hidden by my hurry, tucked behind a leaf and revealed by his slow and patient attention He taught us to see To look close To take the time to do it well And while we bristled at the pocket knife, cutting candy into enragingly tiny mouthfuls he taught us to savor and make the moments last He never rushed a photograph He never hurried though a museum He never pushed you out after dinner He sat and listened and truly saw you in focus. While his eyes blurred with age And his ears failed him He never stopped taking in the moment and he never stopped his ever and perfect focusing On the thing in front of him, perhaps small but made large by his attention The last time I saw him he clearly and directly looked me in the eye and in his way gave a blessing passing on his focus “Send those kids my love. Take care of them.” And in those words I understood him.
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Apr 13, 2019
Apr 13, 2019 at 11:20 PM UTC
Focus: upon the death of my grandfather
He spoke the language of birds of pickle **** and lichen and ailerons and shutter speeds Where I saw a blackbird with a spot of red on a wing He saw Agelaius Phoeniceus a passerine bird of the family Icteridae found in most of North America and much of Central America His mind and mouth were full of facts and figures about wind and lift and tides and the right time to plant and to harvest tomatoes Music and science were things to be dissected and perfected and each thing was measured and calculated and intentional like the metronome I played with on the piano in the spare room I did not always understand him I did not always try to learn a kid dabbling in punk rock and drawn to graffiti will I found it hard to relate to someone so exacting But while I do not remember his laugh I do remember his joy at explaining the circuitry in a handmade airplane or the minutiae of the wondrous geometric cellular structure of a pine cone A hike in the sloughs and I ran ahead while he kneeled and saw a tiny marvel, a flower or a lizard hidden by my hurry, tucked behind a leaf and revealed by his slow and patient attention He taught us to see To look close To take the time to do it well And while we bristled at the pocket knife, cutting candy into enragingly tiny mouthfuls he taught us to savor and make the moments last He never rushed a photograph He never hurried though a museum He never pushed you out after dinner He sat and listened and truly saw you in focus. While his eyes blurred with age And his ears failed him He never stopped taking in the moment and he never stopped his ever and perfect focusing On the thing in front of him, perhaps small but made large by his attention The last time I saw him he clearly and directly looked me in the eye and in his way gave a blessing passing on his focus “Send those kids my love. Take care of them.” And in those words I understood him.
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