Poetry

not never

two in a row
negative nostalgia naughty
one is not enough
three just right

i miss him you know
those people that pass on
leaving a shadow
of themselves

walking they sometimes join
talking word stories
about the waves of yesterday’s tomorrows making a way

rare silent and singing
no not ever
does it hinge on conversation

**its been a long while… flexing the fingers ….**

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Poetry, with real toads

translated


in the garden with real frogs
fireblossom friday: i put a spell on u

ease right in
its no surprise

died a hundred times
revived all over again

disinterested desiderata
the yearning survives

sweet sauce thirst
hidden in exigency

distraught unzipped
deceased dust delivery

acquiesce pancake breakfast
assembled inside of me

buttoned up obscurity
its a takeover

notes to self… having company is nice but when the company decides to stay then its a fight to survive… as noted by the garden there’s a time and place for everything

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Poetry, with real toads

she howls

Howl Your Poetry, by Magaly Guerrero.jpg
imaginary garden tuesday platform, howl your poetry into my bones
photo: Vampiros, illustrated by Meritxell Ribas Puigmal.

a wee bit of a squeeze
his love inspires me

we gather round the fire
burning singe grasp the flames

stirring coals whipping fire
attempt to cool the heat

emotional nightmare
we hold on feet afloat

zealous disturbance
excitable crackling thunder

gypsy woven whisper
his love covers me

note to self: i tried my best to howl, in the worse way possible… love on crack, you know that sorta place where you don’t ever wanna be but somehow beyond your control…love hanging out with frogs

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