stories to temper steel to
when the story falls silent
the folds folded
asleep inside the blade

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a cobweb of strings
poured from the cross
that control our limbs

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fairy lights flickered
when no one was watching
woodsmoke curled to sleep
in the grass

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close the gate gentle
make it chime
close it like a delicate thing
as if just leaving
looking in
upon a sleeping child
isn’t that how hearts
should be handled
footsteps made faint
by grass
no knock required
no doorbell
rattling the rooms
just the soft cry
of a rusted hinge


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don’t know how
to write about you anymore
I’ll let silence sing

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I sunbathed
in your shadow

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a blizzard of butterflies

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scars like lips sewn shut
kiss without tongue

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snow leopard

born from a dead fire
after snow
sprinkled its spell
upon it

fur of flint
so cold
you don’t spark

the ghost of green
haunts your eyes
as you haunt the mountains

everything is ash
fire whispers to you
in your dreams

you haunt the mountains
of my mind
carry secrets through storms
piss upon rocks
the scent of smoke

no matter how long it takes
endure the cold stare of stars
find my fire
let us see green again
by looking into each other’s eyes

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lamps wore away
at the dark

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there is another show
long after
the main event
the cacophony of clowns
become stroked cymbals
the trapeze artist
tiptoes over the camber
of the milky way
suspended in a puddle
the human cannonball
curls like a cat into its crater
dreams of petri dishes
blooming with flowers
the sword swallower
lets the hilt lay in their hand
for a little while
before laying the blade
amongst the blades of grass
starlight soaks into the steel
the juggler
stands the pins before the fire
their faceless faces watch
the feathers of flames
smudges tears over shy smiles
the contortionist
hugs their knees
unwinds a story into the pool
of their shadow
the fire breather
feels the smoke
feeling its way
through the dark of their body
fingers soft as silk

in the morning
just the footprint of the fire
where god
stubbed out their cigar
or
where an elephant
bruised the earth
balancing upon one foot
its trunk
held onto air


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a gate
spills the garden
into the street

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your flame throws bird shadows
over the walls of my heart
that have never known sky

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worn away with waking

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