The sound of flowers shrinking

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Popsicle poetry
I have no stomach
For a scorched earth policy

Letting the air out.
Texting in bed

Skating party limbo
The next day and the next

The emptiness never
Bothered me.

A feeling of something
Is pushing

Calf pain
A throwing up of hands
A conversation with myself
What I mean

Perhaps it’s time
to take down
The Christmas lights

Shift
Control

Speaking in code
The sound of flowers shrinking
These squirrels are fearless
Long walks

Lazy poets

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Most of us die slowly


Most of us die slowly
We swim without a net
Until the paperwork gets us

realize you’re screaming

Stoping advicing

The year of the tree
has come and gone

The sickest thing
Hiding behind words
There is no childhood
In them
Soft anger is hard to print
Hard to read
Words are lazy
Like porn
We make words
difficult Like love

Primitive defense mechanisms

The birds that stay
all winter long
They know their place
They argue well

I’ve been seeing things Out of the corner of my eye


I’ve been seeing things
Out of the corner of my eye

when I look it’s gone
When I focus it’s not there

A lazy soul

So many cops
So many churches
So many t-shirts
So much pasta

Constantly rehearsing
Acceptance speeches

Launching arrows
a sea of bees

Genghis Khan clouds
The indirect approach

An army of donuts
Lead by a lion

The brass ring
Is in your nose

A dry erase board
A bag of records

Working with friends
Is such a good idea

The burning cold