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Literature Text
at half-past novemeber, we took our shovels
and dug ourselves a hole. we waited til
the sun had died with you to plant
the tree.
we took our watered-down anger,
our silicone tears, and sprinkled
it around. then we set up
cardboard cutouts of ourselves
and waited for something
to happen.
he likes to think you grew into
it; likes to talk about how
you dug your roots
and stayed. i tell him he's wishing
too hard; tell him he's looking
for gold where there's nothing
but silver.
he says i've got no hope to wear,
that i'm always dressing myself
in rags layered with dust
and cynicism. i laugh and ask
what makes him think you'd stick around
for a stupid tree, when we as ourselves
should've been enough.
and dug ourselves a hole. we waited til
the sun had died with you to plant
the tree.
we took our watered-down anger,
our silicone tears, and sprinkled
it around. then we set up
cardboard cutouts of ourselves
and waited for something
to happen.
he likes to think you grew into
it; likes to talk about how
you dug your roots
and stayed. i tell him he's wishing
too hard; tell him he's looking
for gold where there's nothing
but silver.
he says i've got no hope to wear,
that i'm always dressing myself
in rags layered with dust
and cynicism. i laugh and ask
what makes him think you'd stick around
for a stupid tree, when we as ourselves
should've been enough.
![[OPEN] Adoptable #EC001005](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/3a5f6192-0887-4a94-8d64-334eb14715fe/dh72o30-939dcf76-2b81-4b29-b511-99552740d092.png/v1/fit/w_375,h_563,q_70,strp/_open__adoptable__ec001005_by_oka_echo_dh72o30-375w.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.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.M5_s0liSP2A-UDQCf9Z4rJbmk2K8O3s2D9-r3WYxYIU)
Literature
Angles of Light
That window which you look through Seems heavy, but the eyes You use to look with, set alight Each thing a thousand ways: Is dawn a bright mosaic? A bird in a gold tree? Disaster or a masterful Display of artistry?
Literature
NaPo 2020 Day 25
when the first wave came,
it hit with so much force
that i folded
i thought the grief would be
so heavy that we'd sink
but you,
much like your convictions,
never wavered
Literature
reflective
One minute you will stand watching prior moments drift past your fingertips on kite strings. You will think, I could not have known such things would fly away. You will think, I was happier tied to such fragments of time. You will think, My heart sang for lack of knowledge. My heart leapt for ignorance. Witness now--the mouth of a tunnel, think then on the other end. Close your eyes and fall backward, into the shoes of former selves, envying their blindness to this present. Linger. Then lean back into reality-- your future shouldn't need to wander forward alone.
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he says the skeletal branches kinda match your bones.
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Comments4
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There are bits and pieces of this poem that a I can relate to and understand--other parts I don't. I think that's the beauty of poems like these. I can find meaning in some parts while others resound with another person. This is very well-written. 