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Literature Text
heaven said they had no room inside for me;
they said i could birth my little world in the barn.
i'll leave with their horses in the middle of the night
and they can have the guts i lost on the floor.
i scream like hell because i've breathed in too much smoke
not to sound like rock and roll; give the devil a chance,
you might realize he's as hospitable to you
as the nuns in the convent are to ingenues.
flames aren't prejudiced and they'll
burn any flesh they can touch...
doesn't that make you feel loved?
i'm not a cynic, i'm not a
revolutionist,
i'm bored.
they said i could birth my little world in the barn.
i'll leave with their horses in the middle of the night
and they can have the guts i lost on the floor.
i scream like hell because i've breathed in too much smoke
not to sound like rock and roll; give the devil a chance,
you might realize he's as hospitable to you
as the nuns in the convent are to ingenues.
flames aren't prejudiced and they'll
burn any flesh they can touch...
doesn't that make you feel loved?
i'm not a cynic, i'm not a
revolutionist,
i'm bored.
Literature
so let us melt
i.
she must have been a beacon,
off-colour orange glass, tilted,
splitting herself in two -
he wonders
how many times she has
melted only to reshape
herself anew, each sinew
a promise snapped in two,
each smile a dying
candle.
ii.
learning to catch
fireflies in jars is an
art form of trailing sparks
down strong shoulders
and weak collarbones.
they burn, his lips and
fingers scorched
but he drowns in her light;
together they paralyze
behind glass.
iii.
if the universe was formed
from dancing spirits, they'd be
entwined orange flames
creating light for each other
in a world of darkness.
Literature
what to do when he doesn't say it back
a)
you will give all of yourself to a boy who won't know you at all.
he will recycle your parts, make you stationary, bind you into
paper that he will gift back so you can write poetry about him.
you, too, say i love you quickly.
when he doesn't say it back, evaporate.
b)
he will kiss you in places you didn't know existed.
until him, you were a peasant in your body's palace.
he crowned you princess, broke the lock of your castle's gates.
when he doesn't say it back, load your cannons.
c)
you are a fountain pen.
look him in the eye when you write him letters on your skin.
when he asks to read them, surrender.
you have always be
Literature
once more with feeling
just tonight,
i will reduce myself to instincts.
when your hand settles wide and warm on the curve of my hip
i will allow myself to ease into you,
to sink into this infrequent surety -
to feel small,
(just now, just tonight)
and lay my body and my vulnerabilities bare,
trembling and receptive to your heat -
your solidity -
your mercy.
i will be reverent,
(just this, just once)
enamored of each breath,
each plane and edge,
each soft channel between
each heaving pair of ribs -
i will allow myself
(just once, just once)
to consume you,
to find myself
consumed.
(just this, just please,
just -
)
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