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Literature Text
The neighbor's hedges are 'whiskers'
because hedges are to whisker-tips
what neighbors are to cat-tracks
wanting to know whose yard
they don't and do fit in.
because hedges are to whisker-tips
what neighbors are to cat-tracks
wanting to know whose yard
they don't and do fit in.
Literature
notesleep
playing my emphases like harp strings
your voice smokes thru the oaken bramble
pour a carbonated apology, a sun-stained
mile marked envelope, two ill-fitted birds,
hands small holes right before a rush of river
what it feels like being swallowed from the outside
crushing rings into truth serum, pretend
to be out of tune with that deception
I have been unable to parse my own persona
a pink cotton voice I remember thru the phone
I remember because it formed me into a granary
one crop after another of patriarchal idioms
whisper my secrets so softly into a glint of red hair
a saucer-eyed lace pattern cut into pine paper
I practice radical self lo
Literature
Endless
Memories so visceral
I can still taste them,
like the salty sweet wash of your skin
after a slow morning run
in the dancing summer rain.
Eyes a shade of amber,
golden flakes glowing in the warmth
of a crackling fire,
your lips parted like an envelope
I'm aching to seal.
Words whispered silently,
a tender glance exchanged,
an undulation of emotion,
a burst of color and a blast of light,
two lone figures unite.
Hands in the dirt,
knees in the slushing mud,
battle weary and fatigued,
I trudge step by step
toward the peak of this moment,
a banner raised,
emblazoned with your name.
For I'd rather die on the hill,
swathed in the regalia of my d
Literature
Apocalypta
Dawn breaks soft,
You are sun glare
in the rearview;
and I, the heavy mist
ahead
on a road that forgets to end.
Suggested Collections
Written 4/5/2013
Part of the Bitlets project.
Bitlets 83 © 2014 Nic Swaner
Part of the Bitlets project.
Bitlets are about quantity, not quality. Free-write at least one a day about what is on your mind, going on around you, or the state of your life. Ignore the urge to edit; it's not about being profound on purpose, it's about stumbling on it by accident.About this Bitlet
This was originally Bitlet 59. Somehow it got lost in the construct of notebooks and word documents. So here it is, presented as number 83. The second line I recognize as a reference to how animals tell if they can fit through openings, by using their whiskers to judge the size of them. The rest of the poem is a comparison to how people treat strays in their neighborhood.Browse Bitlets
Bitlets 83 © 2014 Nic Swaner
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