#8: the Intangible

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What it would be like

…to transform a flame into wildfire igniting each blood vessel with desire

…to roam the earth by wind and bring two bodies together

…to dance with the sun to a song of silence in darkness forever and ever

…to be born into a moment and conquer the mind only to die a moment later by another

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#6: Turmoil

 

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Facial Tissue

Turmoil within locked in a box

boils then simmers then boils the

oil the toxic hate that warps the

coil around your neck and

soils the love you had for yourself

spoils the “love” you now give to yourself so you

recoil from the love that’s given to you

thinking it’s just as toxic as the living, breathing resentment inside you.

Forgiveness is the key to unlock that box

but you’ve buried that key six feet under your house.

Free yourself from yourself.

#5: For you, Nina.

The day breaks with birds flyin high
Still sitting on the floor
Foil in hand from previous nights
And then
I hear her, I feel her
Running through my veins
Like a river
Running free
Her voice flowers the color of acoustics
Breeds half notes and whole ones
With fervor into music
Igniting
The fire
Firing power and desire
I set foot
On the keys of the piano
While she spits her scats
With aim and precision
Crescendo!
Freedom is yours and mine Nina,
You know how I feel.

#4: The End

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She trots across the room

with baby blue jeans and pink shoes

with bulbous brown eyes she looks up at you

with glossy lips from spoonfuls of squash

you feed her, I see it now, her lusc-

-ious kisses stain you with blush

a never ending warmth

like the first sip of tea or broth

or the first sunrise to welcome the new month

and with every sunrise, the sun sets

day after day it rests

to remind me it’s

the end

her trots

my thoughts

her gloss-

-y lips that can’t talk

her pudgy legs that won’t walk

all for reasons I cannot

comprehend or begin to explain

the anger, the rage, the frustration, the pain

it boils, it emulsifies, it defiles, it reverberates

throughout the empty, dark corners of me.

We never met you but we love you, our sweet honey bee.

#2: Fall in Takao

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Don’t just face it,

Drown yourself in it,

Until you breathe the adulterated water,

of microscopic parasites,

Until you breathe the wreathing sandstorm

of vexatious bullets,

Until you bleed puddles and pools

of yellow weakness,

And it accepts your unwavering tenacity,

And it surrenders to your fiery vivacity,

And feeds your immunity,

like a soft, pulpy orange.

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