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Eldrich AAA

Nicholas hates driving through the Midwest.  The palette of pleasant yellows, blues, and greens is stretched so thin over the cornfields and isolated pockets of forest that it loses all meaning in the monotony.  Mountains are towering, forests are mysterious, but the endless fields of rural Ohio?  They’re just exhausting. He has to sit ramrod …

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(Poems) – astronaut

is that a space helmet  or a halo? god’s never been to the moon: he’s lost in the stars. maybe divinity is just forgetting. losing the earth for the sky, selling out to the void. maybe divinity is just apathy. the absence of a reason to look back.

(Poems) – wet shoes

you can pick up your shoes between two fingers: a peace sign and follow me under the awning  where we watch the driveway flood and we don’t complain when the wind blows the rain into our faces. it deserves it. it did so well. our lungs make room for the rain and glow like saints: …

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(Poems) – falling action

there’s red in the sunlight, i can taste it in my tongue: heavy and holy— i’m dying in the sunrise with hollowed bones  but no wings. I never left my country, barely left my home. the morning burns my eyes, and it’s quiet here, alone.

(Poems) – limbo

I’ve lost my way, but still found myself here. It’s a colorless, formless place.  It creeps like fog, but it bites like fire.  It consumes me like it wants me, like it needs me, and I’m too tired to refuse.  I’ve lost the lines between who I was and who I want to be.  Blood …

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(Poems) – To (you)

I’m not sure who I’m talking to anymore.  It’s you, obviously, but I don’t know who you are.  God doesn’t know who you are.  The best window into a person is through the ribcage, not the eyes.  Could you be (future) me? Those who I love (have loved?).  A friend I’ll make, or one I’ve …

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(Poems) – gray ohio

trapped beneath a rolling gloom, tasting the blooming death. we sit beneath a blinking sun, because hatred grows best in this soil and we relish the bite of winter thorns and blood-soaked billboards. what else grows here but corn and asphalt and steel? what else does heat do but leave?

(Poems) – white dwarf

I’ve lost so much of myself.  I reach for hydrogen beneath a trillion twinkling eyes and find nothing.  So much of me is gone.  The iron and sulfur and magnesium and neon.  It’s so much darker now.   What’s left— the things I used to love— sit in me as merciless reminders.  Accomplishments turned to mockery.  …

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(Poems) – metallic

And I am cold metal pressed against your skin in winter when the snow takes your fingers and ears and nose and the wolves and doves gather to eat their piece  the sky is pale and full   the earth swallows the sound And I am that metal again in summer  when you lick it and …

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(Poems) – smog

Death and me falling into the pale— that inky whiteness fogged with a thousand tongues of flickering smoke. the mist tastes like ash. my fingers are choking and the only sounds I can hear are paper burning  And my own unheard pleading. precipice,  downfall, silence.

Liminal – 2,122 words

liminal : characterized by being on a boundary or threshold, especially by being transitional or intermediate between two states or situations. I: Northmoor University’s campus had always felt like a strange new world to Sara in the midnight hours, a thousand streetlights lighting every inch of the sprawling maze of roads and old brick buildings in …

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(Poems) – yourself

every poem can be about you if you don’t commit to a self. you can stay a shifting pile of neuroses, trapped between a coffee cup and wine glass. the kind of mess which stains. that you can never get out of your skin. cause you never had enough words in yourself, or a clue …

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(Poems) – headless Victory – 68 words

you can’t hold yourself together anymore. the cracks spread further every day. making yourself marble has made them uncurable. even a helping hand can’t heal absence. there’s no glue for marble, no fix for burnt books. There’s a reason Victory is still headless, and you’re still not happy. nothing stays important, no one saves you, …

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(Poems) – it dies, unaided – 54 words

The firelight begins to dim. I see it, we see it. The splitting, crackling wood quiets. Sore sorrowful sparks make their last dance. Smoke rises like irretrievable hopes escaping us The charred logs lose their glow. I sweep up the white ash, we sweep up the white ash The fireplace sits dark and still.


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