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Literature Text
I strip
Skin.
The kitchen
Sink has
A polish of
Uneaten silt.
On the stove
Are stains of
Restraint:
Yolk, balsamic
Vinaigrette, cheap
Pomegranate tea.
The kettle eyes me
Heedlessly, fuming.
I think briefly about
Magnets— oppo-
Sites attracting—
And cannot
Conclude
If the scale is
Tipped in my favor
Or reads Err.
Skin.
The kitchen
Sink has
A polish of
Uneaten silt.
On the stove
Are stains of
Restraint:
Yolk, balsamic
Vinaigrette, cheap
Pomegranate tea.
The kettle eyes me
Heedlessly, fuming.
I think briefly about
Magnets— oppo-
Sites attracting—
And cannot
Conclude
If the scale is
Tipped in my favor
Or reads Err.
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
Awake
Awake
We - are the children of Cygnus
Sagittarius , the Pleiades, Orion, and the Dog Star
Sprung from the womb of the Hypernova
Recycled, Reborn, Eternal
Observe
Times arrow returned to its quiver
Unlimited
Alive - in every moment that has been
or will ever be
Free
From the shackles of the linear mind
and the material wastelands of the Fallen
Pity the mortal and the blind
We dine on starlight
and dance to the rhythm of the fractal void
The heavy metal, rock and roll beat of the Magnetar and Star Quakes
The techo-jazz, thump thump thump of the pulsars
The waltz of the binaries
in their elegant embrace
We ride the big surf of the Broa
Literature
consecrate
authenticity an arsenic
in morning coffee, in the smiles
pressed like ironed laundry,
because I feel like one wrong breath,
one wrong kiss between glossed lips and soft jaws
and I will be nailed to a cross
deception a shame rising like steam,
where teeth grind against each other
like clockwork gears, tick tick ticking
while the tongue kisses the roof of its cathedral
like a prayer to gods yet to be named
because her face is a mosaic window
shining the sin out of love
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This poem is a very emotional topic to me: my weight. I'm really not comfortable disclosing this topic but here goes. You'd think as a guy I'd have a thicker shell against remarks about my weight, but I just don't. It has severely impacted how I see myself, and I broke down a few months ago and resolved to exercise more and eat better after a trip to the doctor weighed me in at over 300+ pounds (I'm usually around 250). I've been unusually depressed in the last few months yet I have been coming out of it, and I finally hit a milestone the other day: my scale at home stopped giving an Err message. The fruits of my labor (literally) have been paying off, and it is such a warm feeling in contrast to the poem.
Comments14
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Oh wow, this is so strong and emotion packed. I love the way you wrote it, and it really helps people feel what you are going through. I wish you the best of luck, because, man, you deserve it.