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Sun Through the Trees

We held the broken tree limb in our hands, which is how we had been waving it, madly, in the woods. We picked it up and whipped it around like a flag with no unfurling, full of energy and fervor. We walked along the path, whipping poison ivy and pointing to the birds scattering. On a turn, it wrapped against a tree trunk, and broke, and now it was just a piece of its former glory. No mind, we broke it again, and put the smallest piece in our pockets, remembering what might have been.
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Miera and the Hawk

She ran her fingers through her dirty hair, she was through with thinking of him, through with caring for the steel soul inside the beast, when they both know it was no more than a baby rabbit, shivering in the cold, frozen in place, waiting for a hawk.  "Jesus, Miera, could you stop writing such dark poetry?" he practically spat out his coffee, all over the white linen table cloth with tiny flowers embroidered on it, the one nice thing she owned, which was probably from a garage sale anyways. The mood began an ascent toward cacophony, although it was silent.  Break the noise.  "Well, then, turn on a light, for Pete's sake," she replied, flipping on the cold bulb. It hung there, from the ceiling, casting shadows as they stared. First at one another, then at the envelope. It had a small bird on the stamp, a perfect drawing, full of tiny lines. The lines on her fingerprints made many tiny rows, like a sand garden, raked and raked into infinity, the DNA patterns th

After the Break

It's hard to start new after taking a break, the white page seems precious. On days when I write daily, I am perfectly comfortable spewing nonsense. Yet now, there is pressure to write something, profound, true and poignant. Impossible.

To Each

I saw her walking down the street confident in sweat pants her look was of pure disgust at her fellow man she carried a cigarette she carried herself with great repose a long fur coat At first I thought  then I thought then I thought she couldn't be she must be... to each their own.

How Dare

How dare you wake the golden sparrow's shout when you laid up in the turnabout Smuckering a solid air affair when he was sitting, calling out to you there. Did not you hear the mountain move,  when you were ear pressed to the pillow dreaming of your dimmest light removed and the sunshine is replaced with moon glow. The day will dawn and you will shout again another song of the composer's lute grinning in your heart with focused eyes as you answer the call of the shiny flute.


The cat rushed in he had been meowing outside the door I didn't even look through the peephole to make sure it wasn't an intruder before I opened it. The cat lives on the second floor in the apartment directly above and thought I was in his house so strange of me to have redecorated.

Lifting Up

Mixed up between the wires the heart beats of the birds the sky is breaking slowly the factories breathe their smoke the fog lifts up