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Showing posts from July 19, 2016

she’s asleep - tanka

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Malcolm Liepke, American Painter she’s asleep, dreams of chrysanthemums trickle down her nipples… her insides are nothing but mercy birds listen to her breathe until she breaks like a branch… dawn has not arrived

Sometimes the rain

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Yesterday I let the sea wrap itself around me, it dragged me with rage and removed everything I am except my body. The sea does not drag misfortune. I love you like the enduring past, the hidden future. I have not changed much. I’m still marveled by the sea, I let myself be carried away by its waves. I tell lies so I can say I’m joking, I haven’t changed at all, and in my eternal repetition, my disrespectful, treacherous day, you fluctuate like sea waves.  

To the one with the starry eyes - long poem

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To the one with the starry eyes and a heart of stone… everything is always you. My name is as common as a door or an empty photograph. I will not call upon your namesake, I’d rather call you brother (I’m with you             in your pain). My chest is an uncertain number of certainties. I am not homeless, nor am I sick with deadly fever. I suffer love, and that is perishable pain. Time rots what it does not understand. I am son, brother, slave. Each one knows which part of me belongs to them. Sometimes I’m a cock and it’s not because I’m scared or an asshole, it’s just my face. Yesterday I let the sea wrap itself around me me, it pulled me in with rage, removed everything I am except my body, the sea does not tackle misfortune. I love you like the enduring past, the hidden future. I have not changed much. I tell lies so I can say I’m joking, I haven’t changed at all, and in my eternal repetition, my disr

tanka poem - to the one

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to the one with the starry eyes and a heart of stone… everything is always you