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Literature Text
it’s been a long time coming
all this running
up and down the coast
and inside,
along the mountain lines
with and without
brothers
sisters blowing kisses
their hair a’mess
a’blest by languid
breeze—
unless you’ve rolled the distance
you mighten’t know the difference
in and out of autos
up and down those highways
all the colored canvas skies
unique
over every state
looking for some solace
rollin’, feeling homeless
not without a house
but instead without a place
all this running
up and down the coast
and inside,
along the mountain lines
with and without
brothers
sisters blowing kisses
their hair a’mess
a’blest by languid
breeze—
unless you’ve rolled the distance
you mighten’t know the difference
in and out of autos
up and down those highways
all the colored canvas skies
unique
over every state
looking for some solace
rollin’, feeling homeless
not without a house
but instead without a place
Literature
scattered
We leave pieces of ourselves in the corners
Of bookshelves, stuck between the pages
And in the hand painted wooden bowl
Collecting dust and spare change.
My fingers grazed a fragment
When I saw a photograph of you today
And my lungs caught on the memory
Of the first words you said to me
Lingering like a ghost breath
In the soft curve of my earlobe.
(“Hi, mind if I ask you
Some questions?”)
I hid inside the rain to drown out
The sound. The wet grass stuck to my toes
And the droplets rolled down
Over the shirt that my mom told me
Makes me look like I’ve got a chip on my shoulder.
(She thought her rebel was a princess
Bu
Literature
traffic on the overpass under the fingernails
and while alacrity
is still
quite far out of reach,
my hands stretch, spreading out
like skeletal maps, each bone
finding breathing room, each vein
a highway being built
even as the cars continue to drive
(trying to fix a train as it moves down the tracks)
and they disassemble,
they pull themselves apart
at the joints,
to build a floating bridge of
little white hopes,
thin little ribbons
licking the potential
to fly
(but the road is anfractuous,
and they’ll drive forever,
circumnavigating the potholes
and finding their way back
to where they started)
our cognitive maps don’t h
Literature
continual wandering
i'm going 80 on i-80 until i see the sun behind me
leaving the glow of
skylines and streetlights far behind
moving west towards the iowa sky
there's a stretch of the west coast
my feet have yet to roam
and it's been years since
i've filled my lungs
with pacific air
there's a cloud over i-5
passing through portland
a peaceful grey sky awaits me
i'm miles from my bed
but i've never been more awake
the ocean whips waves
in my direction
the pacific spray
rejuvenates me
i feel as young as i did
the first time around
i'm looking at the moon
from a different angle
this may not be home
but in this moment
it feels pretty damn close
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The home was my car when I wandered quickly.