Infelix

When the car headlights flash against the ceramic flowerpot, still sitting on the corner of the porch where you left it, I see your green feline eyes. Still waiting where I left them. Whoever first said black cats were unlucky never got to meet…

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After the Breath is Music

he sits atthe edge of his stool. atthe end of things.a tumultuous tower beforethe edge of void, pressing in;a piano key hit beforethe void of whatwe do not know. every sightto be seen stares back at us now.him pressing those keys,playing piano, head tossed…

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heat death

we are a high school, honey-love crush, terribly beautiful at our tipping point to the contact. staring into abyssal zones. walking on water; wading; raising generations  of fish through this finality. the poem steering directionlessness into its narrative. the death of  oceans as a wicked strangling no one wants…

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