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Literature Text
I dive for pearls of dissonance
when the surface of things is too damn
flat and placid;
too many things knocking me into
Christmas stocking holes, stuffed
deep and warm where
the light gets dimmer.
Too many voices planing the peaks of me,
sanding me down until I shine
and glimmer gemlike and
polished.
I want peaks to scale
and troughs to navigate;
want fat and gristle
to chew and my own grit-strewn
trail to stumble along;
I want to smart and bristle,
flicking opinion from my skin
like dew off a nasturtium,
and punch holes in blank pages
like bullets.
when the surface of things is too damn
flat and placid;
too many things knocking me into
Christmas stocking holes, stuffed
deep and warm where
the light gets dimmer.
Too many voices planing the peaks of me,
sanding me down until I shine
and glimmer gemlike and
polished.
I want peaks to scale
and troughs to navigate;
want fat and gristle
to chew and my own grit-strewn
trail to stumble along;
I want to smart and bristle,
flicking opinion from my skin
like dew off a nasturtium,
and punch holes in blank pages
like bullets.
Literature
Regulars
Jon and Carol came in as they do
every day
she clutching a bit of cloth to
her face and being unable
to give me an honest look and
Jon being overly enthusiastic about
his coming meal
(I am a goddess because I
bring them food.)
They met each
other outside the bathroom,
gazed across the table with a fifty
year old expression
and the only emotion I have
ever heard in Carol's
ancient, cracking voice
is when she calls him baby
Repeatedly I wonder, if or when
I give up my mind
to age and black eyes,
will we do this? Drink tea
with too much sugar
and have a waitress that will
be overly concerned if we
don't show our wrink
Literature
Flying
We swam through the sky
and when we landed
we felt higher
than when we almost reached the
Sun.
You kissed my neck and your lips
still burned
and the fire in my hair went out
and you sighed.
I hate this part of the song where I can't hear you anymore.
When you woke me up
I remembered why I used to love you;
why the ash on your tongue
used to taste so sweet.
Literature
Perfect Contrition
In a proper Catholic church, everything echoes. Any sound uttered within the building bounces of the floor and the walls and the high, vaulted ceilings, so much so that I imagine that they could easily reach the ears of God himself. It's a rather poetic thought, the voices of mere mortals ringing towards Heaven with the help of good acoustics, but that thought's tempered by the fact that it includes every single noise: the coughs of emphysemic old men, the rustling of an impatient young girl's dress, and the taps of even the softest rubber-soled sneakers are no exception. On rainy days like this one, those shoes tend to squeak, which probably
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Basically when people say "you must do" I turn around and walk the other way - nothing motivates me better to do something my way than when someone tells me to do it theirs.
© 2012 - 2024 Limbs-of-Osiris
Comments2
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Eloquently angry... Beautifully written! I love the first stanza