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Literature Text
Aphelion: when the orbit of earth is furthest from the sun
When we go spinning once again,
pushing away from the sun's flames,
we feel it.
You might think that we'd be walking on the sun,
the way we've been burning,
but we've hit the outer limit.
We're the farthest we'll ever be,
until we come careening back.
Did you ever think we'd break away?
Sever our elliptical tether?
We need you.
In the night, while you are far away,
we let off fireworks,
to coax you back.
When we go spinning once again,
pushing away from the sun's flames,
we feel it.
You might think that we'd be walking on the sun,
the way we've been burning,
but we've hit the outer limit.
We're the farthest we'll ever be,
until we come careening back.
Did you ever think we'd break away?
Sever our elliptical tether?
We need you.
In the night, while you are far away,
we let off fireworks,
to coax you back.
Literature
Metro poems
I. "Art Museum"
modern persian miniature on white leaflets;
a maze for lab ants.
II. "Kaiser in Paris"
a deadbeat in front de Franche-Comté;
patents for toilet paper.
III. "in Dingle"
the earliest casualties drowned at night,
driftwood in wilted, Irish fields.
IV. "The Mistake"
August 27 2012, an elephant awoke;
in Tampa, Florida.
~MK
Literature
that one...
That one…
That one girl that you wished for
That one girl that you lived for
That one girl that you’d die for
And the one girl you missed your chance for…
We want what we can’t have
It’s all the same with love
The one that makes you wish you had
The one that makes you cry
The one that makes you love her more
And the one that makes you fly
If you love her more than the world
You should never let her go
Because if she gets away from you
You will never forgive yourself
That one girl that you wished for
That one girl that you lived for
The one girl that you’d die for
And the one girl you missed your chance
Literature
Nocte
Hiding from the beast,
From tree to tree,
Running in the dark,
I tell myself such things,
Slow- so it won't find you,
Breath.
These fires have scorched far and wide,
Leaving the scent of my former cinders to linger in my head,
Like some bad bender,
Warped memories encircling grey,
The ground is made of shattered glass,
Broken dreams.
No lilies remain,
To any kingdom I run,
In mirrors of liquid glass,
Surrealist battles are won,
And like fear,
The spider crawled from my mouth.
They are sedating everything,
Brush pixilated,
Focus changing,
Leaving me to run in the dark,
Caught in the eye of the storm,
Hiding in the calm.
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Apparently this occurs in summer, usually the beginning of July
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