papers/lighter/text

crumbled and rolled

impending dawn 01/19/2017

Filed under: free verse,poetry,the trumpocalypse — paperslightertext @ 2:12 am
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As the hours dwindle
and white wolves mingle
just beyond the gate,
hungry to rip health
from the throat of innocents-

those last restless minutes
in bed before reckoning’s
raucous wake-up call
fall all around, dissipate
in a precious effervescence.

Is it cliche to mourn
the end of an era?

Still it ends, inexorably
dismantled, defunded,
and deregulated-
a legacy desecrated.

 

emergency action: panic attack procedure (11/8/16 edition) 11/29/2016

Filed under: free verse,poetry,the trumpocalypse,Uncategorized — paperslightertext @ 3:16 am
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a dense fog, a coming frost. cracked continents crumbling
like crushed ice in a cheap fountain drink.
hopes and dreams hollowed out into eerie jack-o-lanterns.
a bitter, expensive pill to swallow.
five things I can see.

convulsions. a heartbeat, your arms:
four things I can feel.

freeway noise, tears and static.
three things I can hear.

tangerine peels and cool night air.
two things I can smell.

one thing I can taste.
ashes.

a calm, but how long?
but a few restless hours
til the inevitable cruel dawn.

 

the future’s so wet, I gotta wear scuba gear

Filed under: free verse,poetry,the trumpocalypse — paperslightertext @ 12:37 am
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Hope you enjoyed New York while it was dry.
Sandy was only a preview of coming attractions.
The feature presentation’s the dramatic rift,
Continental shift as Antartica crumbles,
America stumbles and Trump bumbles
An amphibian blowing bilious bubbles
Of hot noxious air,
A methane surprise.
Ten feet of sea rise
and a black snake slick with death:
Impending threats.
None were mentioned in the thinkpiece
titled “What will we do next.”

 

scrap from 2012 04/29/2016

Filed under: free verse,poetry — paperslightertext @ 11:44 pm
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Could a sound signify a place,
a sense of saudade, sweet as a sigh
on some other’s collarbone,
a nook in which she’ll never again nestle?

Briefly, where solace was sought from
the sun-soaked glen,
shale shelter where tongues tussled,

a return to find the oak home hollow,
hale, unoccupied by
fate, kisses or wisdom.

 

forest grove 01/23/2016

Filed under: free verse,poetry — paperslightertext @ 12:54 pm
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Eucalyptus gift
A little rift, mended
Needed-a-friend-ed.

Cedar sweet tea,
Hemlock cones and stones
asleep in a forest grove.
Wave to the Giant Sequoia with a
Fallen flower skewered on a limb.
Stephanie says,
Visualize ancient glacial sculptors
ice floes forming fjords, slicing slopes
into the site of someday’s Seattle.

 

There There 06/24/2015

Filed under: Uncategorized — paperslightertext @ 2:46 pm
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Is it crude to impersonate the deceased, in good faith?
Or does it keep them fresh past their expiration date?
A ghost of an old woman’s emphatic, “Hello?”
Answering her cordless phone in the dining room
For no reason, on this random Wednesday enters my head.
The ghosts in our heads transcend the dead.

 

sketch 06/23/2015

Filed under: Uncategorized — paperslightertext @ 10:28 pm
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One minute upon waking,
A text about a dream you had
Where Dream me said,
“I’m a different person now,
But with all new cells.”
We both know what the dream means.

That summer I discovered Steely Dan
On the Boltbus back from Portland,
Hauling Sauvie Island sand home in my hair.
When I got back, I ate the plum candy Joe gave me
Before I’d left, he blessed it with his love.