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Archive for November, 2009

You’re an airhead, not a bimbo.
You have a helium-filled mind
connected by a breakable string
to a clown that keeps it down
until the coming of the Scissors
to set it frightfully free.

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listen to the head not the heart
for consistency,
say the idiots.
thoughts traveling the head
never obey the traffic laws.
they run all the stop signs
ignore all the posted speed limits
and get into all kinds
of collisions.
but feel and listen
how the heart never swerves
its road of rhythm.

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No simple life. I refuse to live a life that I can understand. I would rather stare at my life as one does a sky full of stars. I want to engage in an obsessed inner monologue that jealously tries to match the richness of the open fan above me – the [...]

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One of the millions of floral descendants
thinks it springs from Jesse’s tree.
It is a visionary flower. It believes the first flower will come again
only when all of its descendants agree.
Its descendants do not agree;
the iris argues tall and blue, the marigold squat and yellow and smelly;
the lily bows and sings a scent sweet and [...]

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Why am I afraid of art? Must be the smell of the oil artists use to thin the paint. Whenever I smell it – that is, every time I hear the word “art” – beauty and self-expression are the last particles to tickle the nose hairs of my memory.
First, I think of carnations. [...]

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That shoot looked like any blade of grass.
Then, hearing springtime’s pitch pipe, it took a breath
And tried its first colors, vocalizing softly in pink,
then lengthening its phrases into purple and yellow.
The world of grass
Welcomed its first flower.
The bee wept at its feet,
And the gospel of pollen
Spread throughout the world.

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“How sad to be grass,” said the roses
Advancing in their trellis careers.
“Of course,” said the roses at the top,
“They are silent because they are listening,
Listening to us,
And craving to make
The music of color.”
But who knows what the grass was really thinking?
Who among the rich roses actually cared
What the silent grass was thinking?

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If someone betrays you once, it’s their fault; if they betray you twice, it’s your fault. -Eleanor Roosevelt

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Revisiting what we’ve already learned
Is normal and is nothing to regret;
After all, what we’ve already learned
Is what we are most likely to forget.

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