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Literature Text
Do not talk about
the skeletons
hanging in your closet--
bones bleached
with wishes
and mistakes
are nothing to be afraid of.
Prop open the door
and talk to them--
you'll find
the answers you seek
in their silence.
the skeletons
hanging in your closet--
bones bleached
with wishes
and mistakes
are nothing to be afraid of.
Prop open the door
and talk to them--
you'll find
the answers you seek
in their silence.
Literature
skeleton
light sears
through the chinks of her arched,
regal back.
she is eyeless and smiling,
her ribs a gaunt prison,
her shoulders an altar
eaten by moss.
there is a kind of silent
dignity in her thighs,
the crown of her head
in the way that she lies there
and will not be turned to dust.
Literature
XXII
I think i too have known
autumn too long
The pale moon,
dimpled and lonely
in the widening
sky
familiar as the dying
leaves ;
this year
autumn will fall
into winter
(and i to you)
Literature
hallucinations
heat waves don't caress you
like ocean breezes; they
hit
like two-year old
fists
on their bellies,
foaming flames at the mouth.
the only romantic thing
about summer
is how she seems to fly
like a mustang
across the sun-soaked
pool pavement
and into the kool-aid blue
water--
she is eight again
and burned a scarlet red
and she's asking if I believe
heaven is in that bright,
cloudless sky
while she floats on her
back in the devil's light
"darlin, heaven is where
ice tea is an arm's length
away"
and somehow her quiet laughter
presses through the fog
of a vaporized mind
and somehow her smile relaxes
the choke of afternoons in July
and
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Comments27
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This is so very good! I love it!