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Literature Text
Clawing towards light,
Where’s the ground, the sky is red?
Laid down with the dead.
Forty days to break a man,
Least that’s what I think they said.
Excuse me while I
Load my gun, and greet the sun.
Burning in my eye.
Something ‘bout a chose one,
Then the metal clipped my head.
Where’s the ground, the sky is red?
Laid down with the dead.
Forty days to break a man,
Least that’s what I think they said.
Excuse me while I
Load my gun, and greet the sun.
Burning in my eye.
Something ‘bout a chose one,
Then the metal clipped my head.
Literature
Assuage
The dirge
drumming beneath my ribs,
a tepid drizzle
flooding the hollow cask,
each drop
muffles speech,
seeps into languid lungs
too tired to sleep and
too broken to breathe.
I stand fallen
for lack of gravity's caress
as she lies dreaming,
if indeed,
her solemn slumber
can conceive the flame
long after
the candle has whispered
goodnight.
The eager morning
blooms
in vibrant shades of gold and green
as I am withering
in billowy swathes of black
and blue,
a phantom formed of memory
no more a thought
than a drifting shadow
beneath
a blossoming sun.
She,
a once florid garden
now encased within fourteen letters
etched into rose stone,
a name
wh
Literature
CAPTIVE IN YOUR IMAGE
Blood tears a red rose on fire
The hand of a magician
Steals your mind, captures your heart-
in a magic trick
Trapped behind the glass
Hidden in the mirror
Ghost in the picture
Literature
Murder in the Snow
snow settles over
the stirring houses
soon
life will pass
from the windows
into the corners
of the street
a hand waits
in the growing cold
blind palm holding
the light
of the setting moon
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