May 11, 2008 by Melanie.
lying in the grass
with the blue sky around me–
such distance between
these brown tipped blades
and what is considered heaven
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May 5, 2008 by Melanie.
father cardinal
so bright, so red
so bold and strong
I hope you live on
I hope you live long
through the sky you fly
like a soaring butterfly
father cardinal
I hope you live on
by Zane Alberts (age eight)
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May 3, 2008 by Melanie.
today I noticed
the white sandals I wore
on our wedding day
were made of a dozen knots–
twelfth anniversary
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May 1, 2008 by Melanie.
may day–
flicking the rock
out of my sandal
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April 30, 2008 by Melanie.
instantly
when I step outside
release—
long necked birds skim
the length of the lake
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April 29, 2008 by Melanie.
evening off–
two cabernets
but many stories
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April 28, 2008 by Melanie.
Every so often I like to pull out an old writing file and find words that never made it into a poem. Often they are snippets of cool sounding phrases that get stuck in my brain and I have to write them down otherwise they are forgotten and ultimately mourned as the beginnings of a lost masterpiece. Sometimes I get inspired by reading, sometimes I’m inspired by an itch, not so often I’m inspired by being so sick I just want to cuddle of box of tissues and moan about the connection of pain between my forehead, throat and empty gut. But I can’t tell what had inspired me in filed away sheets of paper. There are just these cryptic sentences, poetic foster children with their brazen hands down their pants that never get assigned to a lyrical home their entire lives. But why do I seek them out? Do I ever use them? I must have once or twice and I certainly would like to now. Every time I go back to save some of these words I’m saddened by the weight of what I must’ve been thinking. Lighten up, I think to myself. You should be like perfume, rising and shifting with the slightest sigh.
a sickening
bouquet of lilacs—
recovery
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April 27, 2008 by Melanie.
1000 recipes
and not a single egg
rainy day
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April 26, 2008 by Melanie.
I’ve given you everything
the mother says
her breasts lank from feeding
first from one side
then the other. Her child
understands
that in order to have everything
night must be descended
warmth must be drained
from these sugary cushions
she presses into his face
day and night and day.
She’s given me everything
he thinks then forgets
because in his dreams
that no one can prove exist
he crawls toward a shining ring
placed ten feet away
on the soft part of the floor
by a woman who is everything
by a woman who takes it away
as soon as he reaches the goal
and brings it to his mouth to taste.
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April 25, 2008 by Melanie.
longest night—
the moon stretches
her legs
only now notices
the earthbound lovers
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