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Stryder
Poetry: 79
Art: 0 / Audio: 9
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1 Poetry
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Chills of the cat call,
caught cross-eyed
between the feint tricks
of light, and sleight of hand.
Walleyed, surprised to see
nothing at the source of sound,
disheartened at the river’s
empty channels, sans the ferrymen.
Not a braying, nor saying
can break the silence
or sink the...
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Rose coloured wingspans,
a Cecropia effect
with less paradox
of a ragtag happenstance,
when Earth takes flight with the Moon.
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Animal people,
or at least, they seemed to be
upright and compassionate.
What else could they be?
When humans dreamed of humans,
they came to form quadrupeds.
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By name, I fall in petal rain,
by night, I’ve no petals to bear.
I let them fall in failed refrain,
by name, I fall in petal rain.
Upon the ground where they had lain
are blankets of no-longer-there’s.
By name, I fall in petal rain,
by night, I’ve no petals to bear.
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Branches drip in patterned beat,
melting from the winter sun,
fragile to such rampant heat.
Nature’s cleansing is now done,
white has fallen prey to green,
melting from the winter sun,
Leaves sporting their lively sheen,
robins sing my mother’s name,
white has fallen prey to...
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baby spider,
how I adore watching you..
spinning your transparent chamber
within monster
flowers and liquid stars
you're a strangeling in a white fur coat;
plump like an eight legged doll,
your twig limbs stitched onto a moon-button body..
and to think it would just take...
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these woods can be peculiar
little one
don't be fooled by the flowers or the
sparrows-song
beneath these trees lurk red jackets with teeth
i think they have the dogs-disease
i should make them into a shawl
something more vintage than violent
i guess someone somewhere would wear...
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my madonna of fawns and
golden leaves
how your song lingers
in the hollow of the trees
in the leafy ruins and the quiet waters..
my winged pietà
cradle this final autumn hymn
as you would a dying fawn
time cares not of your sorrow
or mine ..
for tomorrow he will bring us...
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