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Literature Text
*
*
It's not like you try. Not
for summer in your heart, not for
breezes. But not for nothing is spring
the time of take off into the
hot months of flight.
*
Literature
on not knowing.
this road was ten miles long.
i traveled barefoot.
Literature
Shattering.
A woman says take me home and you are struck
by the fear that you will not know how to touch her right, that you
have unwittingly made it this far without her knowing that
this was not supposed to be your life, a life your father
does not speak of and your mother doesn't understand, her eyes
heavy and sad. This is the kind of life that the dishes
will be the undoing of, a glass handled carelessly one day will
break in your hands and that will be the thing you finally
can't handle, your body crumpling against the sink, the weight
of your mother's sadness, the bitter emptiness of your father's
goodbye on the phone, your last trace of
Literature
a tongue of tea leaves
she has spoken with a tongue of tea leaves
the autumn pied piper
across discarded beer bottles
plays to the phantoms
of summer
the wind, her dusky eyes
a twinge to her rouged lips
rouge, and ragged
her nail polish sparkles
little asteroids glitter
like Orion's belt
she has three places, out of time
three droplets of crystal
the crystalline
she, with her tongue of fortunes
the divine, prediction, prey and predator
she's counting courtship flowers
the tolling bells
among absinthe and aromatic rings
the nettle and bee stings
so that between chances
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Comments5
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It's not
like you try.
Not
for summer
in your heart,
not for breezes.
But not
for nothing
is spring
the time of
take off
into the hot
months of flight.
yet i think it's okay the way you wrote it.
like you try.
Not
for summer
in your heart,
not for breezes.
But not
for nothing
is spring
the time of
take off
into the hot
months of flight.
yet i think it's okay the way you wrote it.