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I’m still human Front and center, For the choruses of fright, The oaths spat out by the full crowds Howling for bedlam – I still carry the glimmer of a child’s reverie, Wandering through their mire, Leaving trails of defiance – I’m still true To the misty illusions of flight Of a heaven…
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Heavenly day dreams depart From the wrecked old vessel Snarled, where the floodwaters Left him to rot – A tree’s serpent roots Binds his torn body together Sharing what he whispers In his hollowed out nights – Every yellowing page Once safe in his memory Is buried and reborn Where the sun’s rays falter…
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Torn from of the reeds And bound for senseless sailing The pure terror fades From a lightened heart – Despite the looming falls And their frothing abyss His loyalties lie With the bends of the river – Pulling away From the mothering shore An interned life rejoices Coasting into view – As the treelines…
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A Viennese sunset smolders In the full courtyards, Howling with slurs And promised reprisals – They carry the torches Of the foaming lynch mobs Not long ago To kill the screams of the past – They burn to snuff out The mute glare of the stars, The words of Kafka floating With Hemingway and…
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Running low is a story retold Across the true and blue land Spilling from alleyways, Beneath the faint gleam of neon – Worn is the fabric That binds hearts together, Frayed to the last strings Threatening to sever – The far and wide hunger Once separately grown Now twines and blossoms As a unifying…
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A guarded tempo rises At the snarl of his voice, When his shadow falls at home And inner-worlds explode – Is it fear? Is it elation? In his son’s scarred heart? When his headlight’s beam And the front door groans open – This familiar rhythm runs And scalds in their veins, Passed down…
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There’s no turning back As the dark harbor drifts into view, Enclosed for a day In its concrete vise – White columns of smoke Billow out into the surf Among the lonely call Of its imprisoned ships – There is no return voyage From where the skyscrapers loom Over the cold blue mornings, Trimmed…
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Hauling my own dead-weight Over the shoulders of a mountain, The way back is an illusion, Slipping out of my grasp – One foot before the other Is the entirety of my world Here and now Among these featureless Hours and days – The quiet realm before the storm Is full of scripture and…
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We exchange our fragments of the world Across the dining room table Our voices on the rise, Out of gravity’s hands – Fighting off the enclosing snares of dusk, We shuffle pieces of our lives Gently back into place – Our great fable unfolds Slowly woven together Every night our words pour With the…









