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Archive for March, 2011

rflower graphic

When potent flowers no longer seduce,
the cat has just one life,
Writer and the chopping block
head-to-head; defeat.
Magnified objects in frozen time
drops the jaw too slow,
words come a second too late,
awkward space ensue.

Crowds take talent to remain unseen,
mind and soul detached,
painter and his model–nude–
nothing else but paint,
one duty, one cause for attention,
emotions: distractions,
the trash lady and her uniform,
hand them to her.

Weight of the world is an understatement
add a century a dreams burnt,
Biblical stories of revival and rebirth,
remain grouped letters.
I rest my case deep in sleep
buried painfully,
that poor bird and its broken wing
doubtful hope in death.

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Some days I return to that dark cave,
dip my toes into the lagoon,
fall and place my arms above
deeper and deeper the drop,
pressure upon my fragile lungs
mouth opens–
black liquid–
race through opened gap
like strings of death charging against
a dimmed life; a silent soul
drowned by layers of altering questions
with no answers in sight.

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Have you seen my voice?
Somewhere in the desert
carcass for the birds.

Have you seen my voice?
Dropped it in a bubbling pot
turned into white steam.

Have you seen my voice?
chained somewhere far away,
rotten in a morbid cell.

If you find my voice,
pry open its fleshy lips,
stitch it to my face,
never close again…

This one’s here to stay

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Dreamy chocolate
Flows through my lips like liqueur
Intoxication

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