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Literature Text
At Barfly you tweet to your
two-hundred-odd followers.
A manga character with blue
hair is lipping the mic. She has
Genius scrawled in marker
on her loose T-shirt. You make
me feel alive, she croons.
Beer in hand, you watch her.
Like any other night creature
you cannot change what you are.
Later you’ll lead her away
into the dark part of the club.
two-hundred-odd followers.
A manga character with blue
hair is lipping the mic. She has
Genius scrawled in marker
on her loose T-shirt. You make
me feel alive, she croons.
Beer in hand, you watch her.
Like any other night creature
you cannot change what you are.
Later you’ll lead her away
into the dark part of the club.
Literature
Our Issues
Your heart grew up in a black wooden box
and thought it fabulous,
its world of
right angles,
wood grain,
and eternal night.
It hated me when I bored the hole
that let the sun singe its eyes, cook its skin,
when rain collected the dirt on its skin
in a puddle beneath its feet and said:
"look how dirty you are, foul thing."
It hated and
hated and
still hates,
always crawling
under any
box it finds.
I kicked it
out of its hiding place.
It ran out howling, hating and being
ha
Literature
Reverie
I.
They say every woman is a piece of the moon,
but I want the sun.
Dear Apollo, explain to me why you gave up
clear mornings for the shadowy future.
And I'll make you wish you hadn't burned a time before.
Because he's still sleeping, turned towards the window,
the thick blinds cracking with sunlight in the early dawn.
The navy sheets his royal dress, the rays his glory crown.
I wake up next to a god on Sunday morning,
hands still dirty from the night before.
II.
But when I sleep, I dream of rhyming big words
Building them on top of each other, letting it touch the sky.
I rub up against them once in awhile to test their stren
Literature
two tired children
'when the sky falls,' she whispered softly, playing with the ends of his hair, 'will you hold my hand?'
they sat in plastic chairs under the streetlight and staring at the stars. the road was empty and the city was hollow, littered with neon advertisements for underwear and french fries. the wind was cool, but not biting, soft and fresh around her neck as she hugged her body, grasping her shoulders and crossing her heart. she'd only brought one bag and she held it between her feet. her little red case of cds and jewelry. all he had was his guitar. she'd never seen him without it. they traveled light, perhaps hoping it'd rub off on their mind
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Comments6
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believe you would like this poem much better if you cut "Like any other night creature"
Beer in hand you watch her. (perhaps Bitter in hand, Guniness in hand, a specific beer/ale)
You cannot change what you are.
Later, you'll lead her away,
Into the dark part of the club.
you're removing the dead line and allowing "watch her./...what you are." to interact
Beer in hand you watch her. (perhaps Bitter in hand, Guniness in hand, a specific beer/ale)
You cannot change what you are.
Later, you'll lead her away,
Into the dark part of the club.
you're removing the dead line and allowing "watch her./...what you are." to interact