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poetry

Ash and Bone

My thoughts, this day, betray me. Can it be-- that hope only endures for the duration of an embrace? Faith, the frightened child which it is, the sullen runaway, huddled, amidst the litter of abandon, shivers in cold loneliness. A half-smoked cigarette, found, like death’s treasure, dangles, quivering in wait ...
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prose

balls

The person in the mirror, made-up, polished, primped, and preened, is a fraud. That person doesn’t even exist. We are the mud beneath our fingernails, we are the grave from which we’ve crawled in defiance, we are what we have fought, clawing, to achieve. We are the blood on our ...
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prose

writer’s playground

This place, for writers, is a playground, its sharp edges removed. Though it's on the playground where we first learn if we've any fight in us at all, and secondarily, which of our spoken principles merit perilous or injurious defense. It's on the playground where our will is first measured ...
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poetry

myth of the poet

By heralding horn, within fable’s adorn, borne drifting in tales, the myth of the poet, exhumed, is exhaled. While poets hold the hand of god, defiled, we lesser beasts feast on pieced facade. Cloaked in golden rolls of smoke, rhymes, baroque, elope within covetous words bespoke. Imposters, marauders, lead royal ...
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poetry

hope’s cold remains

Bitterness, hope's cold remains, sees only malice, returning the same. Anger, is but sorrow with thorns, tears turned to ice, as sadness had warned. As an aside, I saw a post the other day which said that art, in its various forms, is hope. Sage words, and I wish I ...
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poetry

darkness, forsaken

Sunrise ignites the trees, gifting amber warmth to the chosen side, as long shadows creep away into the exile of winter's disgrace, aye-- reaching, dark fingers clawing across the earth's circumference, aching to feel the sun's love again. That hand once held-- has been severed, and cast out. Lonely darkness ...
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poetry

given

This morning, without thinking, I took my son's hand, gently placing a kiss into his palm, as I do with you. I thought upon what it might mean. It is a promise-- to love, always, to love completely. I am given ...
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poetry

the laughter of children quieted

Driving, the horse corpse in the passenger seat, stilled, tho its woeful eyes opened, I’d passed a small park in town, with rolling hills, too smooth and round for a heathen to set foot upon, and another where she and I had planned to meet, its wide lawn, flat and ...
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poetry

Peril

It's too simple a thing to think of love within the tidy boxes of right or wrong. Neither truly exists; there is however, peril: both of losing love, and of finding it ...
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prose

to go unnoticed

"To go unnoticed is by no means easy." ~ Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guittari A quote, a thought outside of its context, displaced, a dark shadow frozen within the transparent water-wall of our tilting ocean of individual perspective, becomes a wave that shall never fall, never laying its weighty truths ...
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