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Literature Text
The city is a raw, open carcass.
I rip into it with my teeth,
tools and weapons alike.
We are bred from our surroundings;
I was born in August,
the son of Sirius and Sol.
Let me tell you what it is to be brought low:
it is a streamlined form of hatred,
to awake in unrelenting heat,
shoved down among vulgarities, drifting
as their glares catch you at every corner.
Is he a threat?
You can watch them drag their ribs through the dust
while you greedily tear into your scraps
behind cooking temple-blocks
(not the scraps they threw at you,
but the ones you fought for).
You're vicious by nature,
but wary by choice.
Asphalt ignites with my stride
as I stray down alleys and sidewalks,
listening for the chain-link's ring.
I can adapt to one-way tides
and dead-end names,
but my soles dig into the concrete
and I barrel down the veins
when I hear the sunset's sympathy.
The fenced dogs don't understand;
enclosed worlds don't appeal to me.
They don't dare invite me into their homes
for fear that I'd track the sunspots inside.
I'd far rather take my chances
and offer low growls through bared teeth
to the collar-men and their sweat stains.
It is a hostile way of life.
I rip into it with my teeth,
tools and weapons alike.
We are bred from our surroundings;
I was born in August,
the son of Sirius and Sol.
Let me tell you what it is to be brought low:
it is a streamlined form of hatred,
to awake in unrelenting heat,
shoved down among vulgarities, drifting
as their glares catch you at every corner.
Is he a threat?
You can watch them drag their ribs through the dust
while you greedily tear into your scraps
behind cooking temple-blocks
(not the scraps they threw at you,
but the ones you fought for).
You're vicious by nature,
but wary by choice.
Asphalt ignites with my stride
as I stray down alleys and sidewalks,
listening for the chain-link's ring.
I can adapt to one-way tides
and dead-end names,
but my soles dig into the concrete
and I barrel down the veins
when I hear the sunset's sympathy.
The fenced dogs don't understand;
enclosed worlds don't appeal to me.
They don't dare invite me into their homes
for fear that I'd track the sunspots inside.
I'd far rather take my chances
and offer low growls through bared teeth
to the collar-men and their sweat stains.
It is a hostile way of life.
Literature
summer home
i've rearranged the rooms of my chest
to make room for you.
i won't say it didn't hurt
to make myself your Adam;
removing rib
after rib
until you found a comfortable perch.
there, beneath my unguarded breast,
you construct your nest of
every lovely thing you've come to love
about me
(while the rest of me flaps wildly
like moth wings against the cold walls
of my exposed heart).
i should've known you'd leave
when winter froze me.
don't apologize [for the ache].
you kept the beautiful bits of me
warm
(while they died).
Literature
Beach
Roar of wind through dry autumn leaves
Sounds like surf on some white beach
Larry's on the piano, banging away
Horizontal windchimes, mad fugues
His fingers grown nine inches long
Bill thinks it will play through, but
He's wearing white after labor day
Sandra can't put down the book of her life
And I'm still somewhere on a beach
Drowning in the cold autumn air
Breathe in, breathe out; stop; no, go
Bells, bells, bells, bedeviled ring
Jeannie's crooked smile stretches for miles
All the way down to some white beach
Where I'm in the water, kissing sharks
Literature
the summer i dug to China
my mother once told me that if i dug a hole deep enough,
i would find myself in China. so one summer,
i parked my 10 year old self on a beach of Lake Michigan
and clawed my way through the sand.
after what seemed like an eternity,
i emerged in a flurry of cherry blossoms.
many moons have passed since then but
my hands are still weathered from the coarse sand,
from digging to a dream my mother had.
it seems as though i've passed my entire life
carving circles in the dirt. after all, i've never
kept my fingernails clean for long.
even here, amidst restless bones & stained skin,
there is a hint of cherry blossoms in the air.
my mother's vo
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The Dog Days of summer were once thought to be caused by the close proximity of the sun and Sirius (i.e. the "dog star") during the months of July and August.
"Hostility" is a theme that helped me completeone many of my other pieces.
Also, some days I just feel aggressive. I'm sure I'm not the only one.
Right?
---
Edit: And thanks for the DLD!
"Hostility" is a theme that helped me complete
Also, some days I just feel aggressive. I'm sure I'm not the only one.
Right?
---
Edit: And thanks for the DLD!
© 2012 - 2024 Sigma-Echo-Seven
Comments39
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This is wonderful! I adore the harsh imagery in context. It gives an eerily personal feel. I also love the way you've spun normal ideas. "The fenced dogs do not understand; enclosed worlds don't appeal to me." Wonderful work, congrats on the DLD!