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theoretically incorrect.

Slowly transmigrating 
from

this form : from this form : from this

into the          notional;
becoming little more than theory

you are odiously attempting
to disprove // rebut // to yourself.

Beleaguered by your voice: 
your voice in your words
your voice on my name
your voice -

I am roaming around the
                                e-d-g-e-s

of

[am I seeing you 
or am I only seeing what you 
want me to see?]

[sic]

[am I another question 
or are you attempting to 
answer me?]

answer me.

The indubitable truth about this
exiguous odyssey is this,

I am no 
et cetera, et cetera, et cetera

I am an impulse,

but clearly only in theory.

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transmogrification.

curating consolation in heaving breaths
  between your whiskey lips
                 your honest kiss
the cigarette you used to light the fire
somewhere in my soul

           - - light - -

flick – flick – flickering

we are not hoping on the ochre metamorphosis
of sunshine into the extortion of black stars 
and                       “daydreams”

we are

forgetting, forgetting, forgetting ? something ?

between the sharp inhales of poetry & 
the swallowing of deeply satisfying literature

we are

remembering bronzes of falls we took 
to win the gold,

the gold ensconced in an impressionistic age
of flaming grooves – groovy yeah?

this rose by this name tastes sweet on the
smooth fissures of your lips

            those doggone lips

thorning = thorny

your name on my mind rattling like bottles 
Glenfiddich:

hissing towards euphoric propulsions
handcuffing an elated Narada;

you are the crackling music of the fire
inside my breathless whisper

beg…beg…begging

come closer!

fill me with your whiskey breath 
your nicotined lines -

light me : : burn me : : extinguish me

rain over me until I become a map 
of places your hands have been.

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could I? ( w/ cosmic echo )

*

could I 
put paper on
words - damned and random;
be just mainly, 
passably, artistic?

meh, clever?
no… great!

what say?

would readers 
that so page this
on places random, totally in breaks, 
line making -
be more caring, without?

could I 
order reverse in it, 
within, words all -
and poetry 
write?

could i?

could i?

*

i could

i could

write poetry
and all words within it 
in reverse order

i could
without caring more,
be making line breaks 
in totally random places on this page 
so that readers would say, what?

would it be great? no.
would it be clever? meh
would it be artistic? passably

mainly, just be random and damned words
on paper, put;

i could.

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What you owe

let it spill

let it fall

let it flow

 

the chest is not a dry stream

it’s Niagara letting 150,000 gallons

of love take off every second

 

it will slip

it will crack

it will split

 

the hands are worn and callused

from years of kneading to nourish

the body with the beauty of bread

 

take it back

take it back

take it back

 

you fail to receive what has been given

take what is left use it to feed yourself

you must have strength to feed others

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One sided conversations

part 1 – what you tell me

 

you tell me

all you ever wanted

is wrapped in tissue

 

you tell me

you can walk on clouds

but only when it rains

 

you tell me

everything is designed

to make something else better

 

you tell me

I am filling the empty

space he used to dance in

 

you tell me

the only way this will work

is if i gift you all of me

 

part 2 – what i tell you

 

i tell you

the sun does not rise

to shed light on your face

 

i tell you

everything i ever wanted

is wrapped inside my skin

 

i tell you

you do not fill any hole

you are an extension of my tongue

 

i tell you

the only time i feel safe

is when i’m in bed alone

 

i tell you

the only way this will work

is if i still own my muscle

 

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While listening to Next to Normal

I am here.

Standing.

On my heels.

 

I am alive.

Truth behind my ear.

 

Turn on a light.

See me.

Standing.

 

On the hardwood floor.

Waiting.

 

On my heels.

Touch me.

Hold my check.

 

In your hand.

Feel the cold.

 

I am here.

Kneeling.

On cement.

 

I am alive.

Truth in my breath.

 

Waltz with me.

Float above.

Our own language.

 

This is not a dream.

I am alive.

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on gods and spiders

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Definitions the English Language has no words for - Found Poem

The act of taking objects one desires

from the house of a friend

by gradually borrowing all of them.

 

A joke so poorly told and so unfunny

that one cannot help but laugh

 

To go outside to check if anyone is coming.

 

The wordless yet meaningful look

shared by two people who desire

to initiate something, but are both

reluctant to start.

 

The act of hesitating while introducing someone

because you’ve forgotten their name.

 

The feeling of pleasure

derived by seeing another’s misfortune.

 

A relationship by fate or destiny.

This is a complex concept.

It draws on principles of predetermination,

which dictate relationships, encounters

and affinities, mostly among lovers and friends.

 

The act of tenderly running

your fingers through someone’s hair.

 

The happiness of meeting again

after a long time.

 

A way of living that focuses

on finding beauty within the imperfections of life

and accepting peacefully the natural cycle of growth and decay.

 

A person who is willing to forgive

abuse the first time; tolerate it

the second time, but never a third time.

 

The heart-wrenching pain

of wanting someone you can’t have.

 

The sense upon first meeting a person

that the two of you are going to fall into love.

 

A declaration of one’s hope

that they’ll die before another person,

because of how difficult it would be

to live without them.

 

The state of agony and torment

created by the sudden sight of one’s own misery.

 

The euphoria you experience

when you’re first falling in love.

 

The sensation of great spiritual anguish,

often without any specific cause. 

A dull ache of the soul, a longing

with nothing to long for, a sick pining,

a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. 

The desire for somebody of something specific,

nostalgia, love-sickness.

 

The feeling of longing for someone

you love and is lost. A vague and constant

desire for something that does not

and probably cannot exist.

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Existing as a Pessimist

 

i am not in the mood to exist today.

 

there's no rain screaming outside these

 

windows, and there's not even one

 

sickly grey cloud floating in any sad way.

 

but I am just not in the mood to exist today.

 

the grass isn't crying out from the

 

ache of a drought and the sun hasn't even

 

been slapped, hard with a stinging pain

 

from today's dreary thoughts or noises.

 

there is something hiding behind the trees

 

and it sits on its knees but it isn't danger.

 

it's a lone stick of emptiness, trying to

 

find the center of its body, it may come

 

from behind its shadow, it may until then

 

 it'll sway--

 

still, I am not in the mood to exist today.

 

the rock on my chest sits heavy, yes...

 

there is nothing strong enough to lift it.

 

ghosts parade on each sides, I've seen in my eyes.

 

to breathe, or to die in September lies.

 

to eat the dirt from September's floor because

 

it is all I am offered, and nothing more.

 

I may awake, or at silent rest I could stay.

 

though it will vapor and twist away.

 

I am still not in the mood to exist today.

 

I rummage thoughts and pain and fear.

 

I muffle the strained doubts I hear.

 

attacks crawling beneath my feet like

 

scuffs, streaked thin and mean on the tile.

 

i'm sorry I don't mean to consecutively cry.

 

 

 

i'm sorry I don't mean to consecutively die.

i'm sorry I don't mean to eat the letter "y"

and spew out the word "why" afterwards...

but it happens, day after day, because of these

noiseless sounds--

and they play with the strings of my heart

like a harp, so perfectly and majestic.

when has it ever been okay?

they say, and I have no answer.

when? when has it ever been okay?

but my heart keeps skipping, and my body goes numb.

when has it ever been okay?

pessimist, pessimist--

 

 

I can hear them say. 

 

gather the diminished breath lost on the way:

pessimist! I hiss

but i am just NOT in the mood to exist today.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Existing As a Pessimist

i am not in the mood to exist today.

there's no rain screaming outside these

windows, and there's not even one

sickly grey cloud floating in any sad way.

but I am just not in the mood to exist today.

the grass isn't crying out from the

ache of a drought and the sun hasn't even

been slapped, hard with a stinging pain

from today's dreary thoughts or noises.

there is something hiding behind the trees

and it sits on its knees but it isn't danger.

it's a lone stick of emptiness, trying to

find the center of its body, it may come

from behind its shadow, it may until then

 it'll sway--

still, I am not in the mood to exist today.

the rock on my chest sits heavy, yes...

there is nothing strong enough to lift it.

ghosts parade on each sides, I've seen in my eyes.

to breathe, or to die in September lies.

to eat the dirt from September's floor because

it is all I am offered, and nothing more.

I may awake, or at silent rest I could stay.

though it will vapor and twist away.

I am still not in the mood to exist today.

I rummage thoughts and pain and fear.

I muffle the strained doubts I hear.

attacks crawling beneath my feet like

scuffs, streaked thin and mean on the tile.

i'm sorry I don't mean to consecutively cry.

i'm sorry I don't mean to consecutively die.

i'm sorry I don't mean to eat the letter "y"

and spew out the word "why" afterwards...

but it happens, day after day, because of these

noiseless sounds--

and they play with the strings of my heart

like a harp, so perfectly and majestic.

when has it ever been okay?

 

 

they say, and I have no answer.

when? when has it ever been okay?

but my heart keeps skipping, and my body goes numb.

when has it ever been okay?

pessimist, pessimist--

 

 

I can hear them say. 

 

gather the diminished breath lost on the way:

pessimist! I hiss

but i am just NOT in the mood to exist today.