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They speak in fiery tongues and burning Braille breath, the taloned syllables of sky. Sanskrit scales and trails of scarlet smoke. We listen with our outstretched hands, our hearts, our will and whim and why, and wonder how long be … Continue reading
This poem is a fair …….(maiden) in a bright tower, sticky with cotton candy clouds and crowds of dark (k)nights in dashing star-spilled skin. She’s in it for the pop -corn, you know, the equality that only comes from tumbled … Continue reading
.. they scoffed at us for swallowing that sun -flower dream, for holding our breaths in the snow. we’ve gathered so much more than loose-leaf scenes; we know these syllables might just stand on their own. and so we pick … Continue reading
.. She’s braying and saying that she doesn’t wanna wane today, doesn’t feel like fading away into nothing. She’s crying and sighing and holding nothing back at bay, causing a tempest -tantrum of whine and ocean waves. She’s taxing and … Continue reading
… ’Dis poem ain’t in line or just in time. She’s got one black eye and bruised feet and a pen -chant for running out in the street before she’s fully dressed. She don’t listen, or glisten, or wrap a … Continue reading
.. They’re stubbed and snubbed and scuffed and stuffed into those cute heel-strappies. (Misery might love company, but all of ’em ain’t happy.) They’re cramped and tramped and clamped and damped in puddles, ponds and lakes. (You’d think that we … Continue reading