Reply To: Week 5 Posts – December 19th

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#19288
Anonymous

It’s okay to start here

In the middle

the beginning will die, sure

but the end will be born from it

Expatriates decorating indigineous

decolonizing room by room

dumb hunter

lions pride, shame packed together

sharing a halfway house

right up until adoption day

up until it was certain that together was the best chance we had

at waiting it out

or pulling through

It’s okay to start in the middle-

the day that the master brought the wheat in from the fields

and broke it open on a black stone

I, wanderer

woke up half drunk

surrounded by cats

what strange fiction

what creaky door swung open

what time is it where you are?

who can read the speech in the sky?

the braille in my eye

who can swing wide

the door without first

dropping to a knee

tie a rope to my wrist

if you wish

or a bell

When the sun rises from that small wooden box

listen for the sound of the slip

the fall

The ruckus tongue

The highway dance

I came to under a moon tower

under a towering moon

i came to the business end

of a peace keepers gun

I came to a point

where everything in was out

and everything out was in

ever since then i’ve been sorting

like a secretary

please, hold

desire

love

let go

I woke up,

In the internet

apprehensive veteran

hurling rocks

at a big green hurricane

headed straight for the coast of happy

bicycle, I

back pedal – slide

cowboy house

hammer head

Grace tornado

drunk wood

patchwork call to prayer

120 degrees and a black top ferrari

the middle flickers often

fizzles out

squishes like a fistful of cupcake

grief face

phantom memory

fishing off the coast of a violin

there is no simple beginning

no straight shot

there is linguine

wrapped around itself

summer bearing down on us

It’s the maillard magic im after

what happens just before the steak gets flipped

what happens between

the dough and the wind and the oven spring

the pickled melon grilled over dead wood

How sugar cane can turn caramel

By just adding pressure and flame.

ceramic canvas

Infinity unlocking the doors of my mouth

It’s the outside

heading inward

It’s the work of the earth

returned to its caretaker

The snap of the apple

The flash of the pan and then gone

just before we arrived.