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Literature Text
>O| Record
outdated backwards
rewind rations
me, looking at your
wrist for the time.
No-one knocks on the door
living in boxes strung up
in the sky, glass locks
buttons to buzzers;
I miss the dialtones
and hot breath on my neck
>| Play
An old memory, full of feeling gone worn away
ten million rememberings and the sharpness becomes
smudged.
Rewind, play, rewind, play, pause
on those still-clear moments of joy, harder to
find.
I, recollective Junkie, sits in a stripped
bare concrete basement, surrounded by discarded
pull-tabs from nutritional supplements.
An old anamnesis player wired to draw
current from a bare, broken bulb. The Memory
of a child’s birthday loops backwards and forwards;
the names forgotten, worn away and indistinct.
Stabbing a thin finger on the pause button
Shivering time forward
one cold moment
at a time.
outdated backwards
rewind rations
me, looking at your
wrist for the time.
No-one knocks on the door
living in boxes strung up
in the sky, glass locks
buttons to buzzers;
I miss the dialtones
and hot breath on my neck
>| Play
An old memory, full of feeling gone worn away
ten million rememberings and the sharpness becomes
smudged.
Rewind, play, rewind, play, pause
on those still-clear moments of joy, harder to
find.
I, recollective Junkie, sits in a stripped
bare concrete basement, surrounded by discarded
pull-tabs from nutritional supplements.
An old anamnesis player wired to draw
current from a bare, broken bulb. The Memory
of a child’s birthday loops backwards and forwards;
the names forgotten, worn away and indistinct.
Stabbing a thin finger on the pause button
Shivering time forward
one cold moment
at a time.
Literature
carousel
we laughed like children high on m&ms,
danced like we were carousel horses,
and jump-roped our way through obstacle courses.
I saved our footsteps in mason jars,
in case we ever needed to follow yellow brick roads
to get home.
home was an illusion:
honesty without truth,
apologies without forgiveness,
I kept home sandwiched between
"never" and "have to."
caroline, they'd say. caroline,
stop being such a dreamer. stop taking
us for granted.
I packed every apology possible
into my breath, left runaway plans lingering
in the silence between family.
when I found you dancing in the street,
I listened for merry-go-round music.
I
Literature
Nourishment
“So your dad isn’t really your dad?”
“I have no evidence either way. Therefore, it is unwise to make a conclusion.” I frown at the tip of my pencil. “How do you spell your name?”
“X-U-A-N.” He glances at my paper. “Are you… making a list?”
“I don’t know why you make it sound so insensible, but yes.” I write Xuan next to a bullet point and make another point.
Do I have another point? I hadn’t even finished my toffee before the man who is not my father approached me.
Well, that means the toffee is still in my lunchbox, and I can have two toffee
Literature
Euphrosyne
dawn.
legs splash from milky sheets.
she rises from the bed like a wave
and crests, just before bare feet touch wood
and fog crawls across the mirror.
midmorning.
footsteps leave damp prints on the floor.
she sings in muted tendrils that float through
hollow rooms.
the sun dries her hair with copper fingers.
noon.
the shadows bunch beneath her feet
and she tosses them across the sky-
painting clouds over the staring sun.
mile-long legs stretch across the world
and she
makes love to the hand-me-down earth.
afternoon.
her quickened breath becomes the wind
and sails ships across the seven seas.
dusk.
when the sun grows w
Suggested Collections
Portoflio Poem. Goes well with The Birdcatchers Return.
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