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Showcasing Poetry, Short Fiction & More

Don’t Blink or You’ll Miss It [The Truth]

July 4th, 2007 · Written by · No Comments

Don’t Blink

Screams erupt from beneath our lead heel
That will not be silenced with another dollar bill.
The façade of our benevolence falls to reveal
A brutal corporate army moving in for the kill.
With economic warfare we do our fathers proud,
[…]

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Week of the Shadow

May 3rd, 2007 · Written by · No Comments

Once a week, Quinn walks up the hill to visit Arbelia. He brings her books of photographs and mix tapes. Quinn is a 25-year-old curious cat born in a small town, brought ‘round the states, soaking it up and wringing it out. Arbelia is an 80-year-old sorceress, songwriter, biker, gardener, mother and Grandmother. She has been incarcerated for 25 years. Quinn has been learning piano. Arbelia has been writing her memoirs. They were introduced by a mutual friend and have been visiting for a year and a half or so. They have created a cushion of mutual respect. A true place to start to speak from. They’ve been calling it traveling. With work and play along the way. So once a week, Quinn heads down to the prison for a brief visitation and he and Arbelia hit the road together.

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White Wings

May 3rd, 2007 · Written by · No Comments

ringfinger

The silver band of my ring
flashes across the bare skin of these walls.
Eyes, desperate, yearning, coat my thoughts
and ask me questions.
I open my mouth wondering but the words
are tied and knotted in my throat,
strapped and bound – my eyes. […]

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Feeding the Demon

May 3rd, 2007 · Written by · No Comments

poison

An unrelenting self-projected psychosis
Filling up inner-cavities with shadow
A darkness
An unforgiving introspective tirade
The bandages are breaking apart
Applied haphazardly
No sense of permanence ever intended
Doled out with a daily routine of decadence

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Verdant

March 3rd, 2007 · Written by · No Comments

It’s May again. The new leaves fill the branches of the trees in front of my window and make it hard to see what is happening outside—their green brilliance does this each spring. Sometimes I still hear bits and scattered pieces of conversation (voices) through my window, sometimes if…

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