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M/mediation I Dominance
The once has never said a word
Nor has the next day stammered promise
To you the black bird calls a message across
The pine. To you the creek is in a rush
Pity first the sky spread so thin
Pity next the water bottle crushed at the road’s edge
Discard can never diminish its grip on what becomes
What becomes cannot stop fighting what was
Drink the reservoir in an untapped gulp
Breathe the carbon breath of freeways
Forget that within you a knife rages
Forget the red storm of wanting to be
M/mediation II Submission
-- for W.S.W.
what happens when there happens to be literally
a silver lining to the cloud:
he says ... the sky is beautiful ...
you say ... yes the cloud is lined silver
he says ... no really.
you say ... yes. it is so.
everything now defeated
couched against the forever loveliness
of ever after. but if it comes how unseemly
how cliche. how awful the art of real and pathetic
happiness. a poem about happiness
cannot succeed. a poem about happiness
makes you search your gut
for the last raw pang
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