Regrettable Irreverence

— To thee, two thousand and twenty I bequeath this ubiquitous lament To thee, most egregious year Beloved little betrayer Darling in thy discontent To thee and thine, I leave only this Of malice, a regrettable irreverence And fleeting, though it be On the Eve of thy completion Let it be agreed We died, on […]

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Recitation | Olena K. Davis

sweet reader, flanneled and tulled  By Olena Kalytiak Davis (www.poetryfoundation.org) — Reader unmov’d and Reader unshaken, Reader unseduc’d and unterrified, through the long-loud and the sweet-still I creep toward you. Toward you, I thistle and I climb. I crawl, Reader, servile and cervine, through this blank season, counting—I sleep and I sleep. I sleep, Reader, […]

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a love that had no end // too good

October 2nd, 2017 was the last text. 4:39 a.m. Eastern Standard Time. — “you awake?” — I stayed up late just in case you needed me. I missed the message by mere minutes. Your mother would be boarding a plane in the morning. She missed you by mere hours. I’ll never understand why. There’s supposed […]

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retrofit

My coronary compass remains  In a state of westerly paralysis Engraved in gregarious golden rods Faded script ‘ad perpetuam memoriam’ Such is the ineffable directional Within me It points to a sanctuary city My mecca of youthful unrest Where I laid for days in a fetal shape Consumed with the earthen taste Of malbec and kinky sex You […]

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Quiet Time

Quiet is woman’s most misleading reprieve A method of marinating our collective madness A conservatory of fury and frenetic energy Which is why our silence Is so highly weaponized A righteous design Honed patiently for centuries By nature’s most dangerous darlings The Royal ‘She’ History’s ample antagonists So sublime is that quiet That fools are born and […]

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With the agony of Keats

I want to be acquainted esoterically With the wilting agony of Keats I want a feverish apex in Italy To end with metaphysical conceit I want to aspirate on avarice I want the Reaper’s lust To be ravenous I want to succumb To a sickness of lung I want to be a poet of unspeakable rarity […]

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my fury (III)

  fu·ry ˈfyo͝orē/ noun wild or violent anger. “tears of fury and frustration” GREEK MYTHOLOGY a spirit of punishment, often represented as one of three goddesses who executed the curses pronounced upon criminals, tortured the guilty with stings of conscience, and inflicted famines and pestilences.    I. my fury has a past, a purpose my fury […]

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Hymn of the Flowers

She sings to the beebalm A hymn that rightfully upends The heathens in the heliotrope She bends the milk thistle with song A migratory melody that subdues The naysayers in the nightshade With lyrical alchemy An adagio of psalms She calms the devils in the delphinium A refrain that reconciles the roses With the tyranny […]

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everything’s roses

The Rose Tree by William Butler Yeats — ‘O words are lightly spoken,’  Said Pearse to Connolly,  ‘Maybe a breath of politic words  Has withered our Rose Tree;  Or maybe but a wind that blows  Across the bitter sea.’  ‘It needs to be but watered,’  James Connolly replied,  ‘To make the green come out again  […]

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what happened to the words?

(This is a one take recording. I only had a three minute span of free time to recite,  so please forgive any mispronunciations or uncalled for pauses… Xo)   Remember when you used to be a poet? My God, those were the days You, when you still craved the words And when the words were […]

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I’ll end you just the same

So has it been decided? Are you my enemy, today? Or should it be so, tomorrow? Et tu, brute? Perhaps it was yesterday? When words kamikazed? From the grandeur and the xanax? Sharpening knives over coffee? Is right now the battleground? Was our love merely a claim? Shall we kiss or draw pistols? I’ll end you […]

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of rambling roses

born in the fever dreams of Degas dainty brushstroke delineations conceived surreptitiously on a canvas of ephemeral linen heavy with striated tenderness in the pallor of blushing brides petite parfum ballerinas their arabesque stems gathered in enormous, trussed bouquets  bespoke of cherubs the ceremonials of flowers an unspoken dowry of buds clutched for the sake of […]

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if only

in the presence of Judas my heart’s very own saboteur I became willingly restrained with the vaguest recognition of his presence— a prisoner, convicted by my own self fulfilling prophecies the subliminal questions seemed to beg themselves “how might it be…. if I were to martyr myself? how might it feel…. if he were to […]

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naked eye

Surface of silver, unerring Obligated to none, as Sylvia told Pristine mimicry, save for subconscious Smudges of identity, an inheritance Without frivolity, such docile echoes Ghosts in the glass, void of flattery Objective oculus, brutalities bare Impartial lens, revelations of subtlety Arbitrator of self, quietly beholden To the naked eye   | a. duncan, 2019 | […]

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tale of a tributary heart

the grieving heart on my pale sleeve with it’s black veil and cameo locket obscuring it’s delicate elegies pinned with sprigs of sage recollections faintly billowing like bittersweet incense it’s ashes enshrined lovingly in poetry a dainty rosary  clutched to breast each glass bead, an ode to the deep, velvet pain framed in the futility of mourning – a. […]

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eclipse

a love like a dying sun  salvaged in the final hour in an eclipse of lips the dissident tides synchronized the dour shores reformed with merciful concord  a tarnished compass  unanimously restored a love drunk sunrise ascending a lonesome river amending as the sediments commence ending prolonged torment there was rapture  in the adaptations there […]

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a lesson in forgiveness

I forgive you, darling. I forgive you, in spite of. I forgive you, for all of it. I forgive you, for the arrogance. I forgive you, for your cowardice. I forgive you, for the emptiness. I forgive you, for your two handsome faces. I forgive you, for the ugliness behind them. I forgive you, for […]

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