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Literature Text
Every morning, her Kraken-like lips yawn cavernous
with soporific starts and smothered dreams. She holds me under
waves of snooze that squeeze every last drop of willpower
until I wash up on the cold steel basin once again.
Treated with burnt toast and bitter coffee in silence
cut only by the uncaring clickety-clack of exo-skeleton,
she dyes and embalms any prospect of excitement
with routine and repetition; rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat...
The clasp of her carpals and metacarpals stills my pen,
and the gentle caress of chalkboard nails tears me away
to gaze at vacuous orbits behind shadowed eyelids
so words fall like dead stars and doomed doves.
Cerebus jealously guards the gaps of her ribs
fearful that I might steal phoenix whispers
from the jaws of Haros and breathe the life
before the constant treading of stagnant Styx.
Instead, hours of procrastination extinguish the flickering
liquid crystal display of tired eyes and tired mind,
and I reach out to my mistress. She flexes her centipede spine
and shrugs away, and I curl up alone -- with her once again.
with soporific starts and smothered dreams. She holds me under
waves of snooze that squeeze every last drop of willpower
until I wash up on the cold steel basin once again.
Treated with burnt toast and bitter coffee in silence
cut only by the uncaring clickety-clack of exo-skeleton,
she dyes and embalms any prospect of excitement
with routine and repetition; rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat...
The clasp of her carpals and metacarpals stills my pen,
and the gentle caress of chalkboard nails tears me away
to gaze at vacuous orbits behind shadowed eyelids
so words fall like dead stars and doomed doves.
Cerebus jealously guards the gaps of her ribs
fearful that I might steal phoenix whispers
from the jaws of Haros and breathe the life
before the constant treading of stagnant Styx.
Instead, hours of procrastination extinguish the flickering
liquid crystal display of tired eyes and tired mind,
and I reach out to my mistress. She flexes her centipede spine
and shrugs away, and I curl up alone -- with her once again.
Literature
carousel
we laughed like children high on m&ms,
danced like we were carousel horses,
and jump-roped our way through obstacle courses.
I saved our footsteps in mason jars,
in case we ever needed to follow yellow brick roads
to get home.
home was an illusion:
honesty without truth,
apologies without forgiveness,
I kept home sandwiched between
"never" and "have to."
caroline, they'd say. caroline,
stop being such a dreamer. stop taking
us for granted.
I packed every apology possible
into my breath, left runaway plans lingering
in the silence between family.
when I found you dancing in the street,
I listened for merry-go-round music.
I
Literature
crystallophone
there is a punchcard sin
like a queen of spades smoldering in an alley.
Engine,
you hear how the gears churn,
singing faster than we did before
back when black magic dropped like a
pair of socks from the sky with supplies
taped to a note that said
(oh, look at you now)
'U.S.A.,
freedom.'
such a beautiful brain:
what
what girl
runs on gasoline?
have a gallon
or we can call it a balloon,
and a new pair of glasses
for your tapered eyes
(you peel the bark back on the logs,
darling,
but you're not sure what you see),
and life says,
either nail jello to a tree,
successfully,
or keep your
icicles hanging from the eaves,
ca
Literature
Through the Light
The cancer took Mary on a Friday, just after three in the morning. She was laying in bed, sleeping. I sat in the chair near the window, reading something, I forget now what, trying not to think about the moment, only thinking about the moment. It had just finished raining, and I had the window to the room cracked, the scent of fresh condensation floating in from the garden outside. The air smelled pure and relaxed. It was lovely.
I was dozing slightly when the EKG started to beep. It took me several seconds to realize what exactly I was hearing, not that it mattered much. By the time I was out of the chair, the nurse had walked in. She move
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Some days it feels like routine and dreariness sucks all life out of living. Also, I really dislike the meter in this piece but hey, what must do?
1) Is the message that death here, is not a physical one but rather a life of uninspired lifelessness? If so, why or why not.
2) Does the use of Greek mythology and references to modern technology enhance or detract from the piece, and should I work more of those reference into the pieces. What would you suggest instead?
3) What must do with meter ("(>_<)/")????
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