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Silent Zee Jan 2013
Sunlight pours in;
and memories wash over me
of the sunsets bathing you
in sanguine tears.
Life is fluid, in cycles.
Hopes will rise, condense into fruition, and always a little rain must fall.  
But hope will rise again.
she took deep breath of him through her eyes
he snaked through her brain down her neck straight to her heart
there he stopped to drink from that sacred bowl,
then coiled and wiggled his way to her ***.
she felt a surge as her organs shook
her breath came in bursts.
her mind snapped from her inhibition like a flag
in a stiff wind.
she knew his scent without going near him
it was fern-laced and green, and she wanted
to put her nose to him and inhale to the bottom of her lungs.
she felt his ****** mistral blow through her, warming her limbs
he was water-wind-breath, po-wa-ha.
she felt her old skin peel away in the force of his mistral,
in the clean wash of his waterlight,
and the caress of his breathing on the air around them.
she stepped out of her old pelt to reveal
the woman she had always been.


c. 1995/2017 Roberta Compton Rainwater
Jamilah Price Jun 2020
You
You
Waiting for you
My music on in the middle of the night so you would know that I was awake
That my space was the jive,
An unintentional jive
Fit for bare-face brutality and loose, loving lips
You
Knowing all of you
Fearing you
Fearing the things that I know
No - fearing the fact that I don't care,
That I pluck the red flags with abandon and present them to myself in a bouquet everyday that I see you
You
Your face in my tarot readings
Across the road, now smiling,
Now frowning
Now thunderous, asking, not finding,and falling
You
Between my fingertips
Sliding beneath my palm
Your hair hands chest pressed to my breast was the best
You pulling away, leaning far away, eyes averted to avoid my scrutiny wavering over your indecision
You begging me, teasing me, glancing back and somehow pleasing me
You, the subject of my poetry
The precursor to my insanity
You pretty pretty graffiti profanity
You, the wave tickling the shore
You the thunderous, cacophonic echoing of the storm
Far off in the future
Promising more
You, unjust,
You pathetic
You tempestuous
Profound,
You and your swagger
Your prophetic sound

Alaskan waterlight, silver stars swimming in fetid Northern Light heatwave

You,
You,
You.

You just make my mind rave
This, and a lot of my poetry, is inspired by the sort of snakish-fluidity and visual bluntness that was Beat Era poetry. I am also heavily inspired by Dacre Montgomery's poetry podcast. I tend to lean towards free form with occasional rhymes and sudden visuals. Thanks for reading!

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