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Wednesday, June 26, 2013

The Girl Opening Up

 

like a rose in May,
the girl opening up.
.
Morning dew on greenest leaves,
soft breeze kisses
the crispy air in the garden.
.
New roof, shining grey, young grass,
full of energy.
.
Blonde hair curls like a staircase,
and it lays out like layered staircase,
and it is novel staircase.
.
The girl opening up,
closing her windows.
.
And she opens her door,
she walks out, knows it's a sunny morning.

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Monday, June 10, 2013

immortality Posted on May 2, 2013 by Brenda Warren



Words are bullets.

Letters, spit by storm clouds, fill puddles,
inhaled alphabet soup, garlicky red,
dimming Count Dracula’s Transylvanian charm
as graphemes drip from his fangs.
He turns his eyes toward Beethoven’s fifth,
it bloody well always grabs him by the throat,
catching his breath in the snow where
the untenable touch of a thousand tomorrows
echoes blood’s thunderous pulsing
as he walks into the light of day.
Chuck watches,
hoping immortality will one day be hers.
Once his ontogeny recapitulates its phylogeny,
she will chop off his head.
The dish runs away with the spoon,
splashing through red graphemes,
while Chuck shoots words
at morning’s fading moon.
Stepping in front of the Count,
her words ricochet back in
garlicky red puddles
uttering messages,
dressing April in words.



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