The Lord
The Lord was a dream I once had
Where I was higher than ever
And everyone I knew
Had their standard met
They raised their mugs
To a sleepy abyss
So eager to say,
“Mornin’!”
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AnasAbdin

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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Peter Solarz
Today's Document
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@dirtandmilk
The Lord
The Lord was a dream I once had
Where I was higher than ever
And everyone I knew
Had their standard met
They raised their mugs
To a sleepy abyss
So eager to say,
“Mornin’!”
Savannah
I had looked up
And there you were
Rubbing her wedding rings together
And with your blasted, glassy eyes
You whispered to yourself,
“I’m so damn scared!”
The Porch
On warming Saturday mornings
I would sit on your porch
Looking over a complex of neighbors
Some carrying in their grocery bags
Some taking out their trash
A few walking their dogs
As, flying, some children pedal’d passed
Then, as time passed us still,
The sun turned its head to the moon
Showing the darkness of its back
With little holes of light
Peering through every starry crack
Like water-gleaming caves
Wind blowing through its tunnels
With a nipping-nose cold
From surely some alien place
Yet by then, my patience shortened
So I would inch closer to the door
But you always asked me to stay
With you, with them
And so then, as you told another story
I was finally beginning to warm up
Wintery Night
By the end of my time here
There will be pages and pages
Filled with quiet, meaningful words
Moments where I sat in the dark, resting
Watching a wintery December night
Falling speckled down in white, white, white
Listening to the heater blow, as I’m
Warming up to a thought or two
Observing an orange street light
Just down my blanket-laden lane
How am I here
Unless you nodded yes
You are the world, my friend
I know, yes, you’ve never left
Daydream
Maybe my dad rebelled for a cause to find
Maybe Ben just needs a dad to model after
Maybe mom, her mother proud
Matt, a different girlfriend than his mother
I scrubbed of this in a contemplative shower
Dottie
Dottie seemed to loosen up after Reider died
She let her shoulders down, just a little
I wonder if she made her mother proud
Poems
Poems are a writer’s dreams
At night: they come easy
At noon: reading
Pout
Life’s been hitting me pretty hard today
Lilly bashed my face in, and then we hugged it out
She makes my dick pout all the time
Then the whole ride home, I screamed out
“Jesus, it’s Christmas!”
It wasn’t, but God, I needed a break
My backpack was bursting, boiling over with books
My eye, an oozing shade of love
It seems I’ll see you as I’m headed down to the floor
Judgement
After his rounds to the youngest
My cousin Greg approached me next
It was time for my yearly connection
I almost rolled my eyes at the mission
I would remember his lean on the porch
His smile as he turned his head in shades
His Gucci belt, his designer jeans
Selling himself a brand for my eyes
I loved him, but I hated him too
I did not care what he thought of me
How could anyone be this way
Smile his way to the heart of the faml’y
He was acting for us
And putting on a compelling performance
Some of my family even clapped at times
But I was not them, or so I thought
Thinking I was seeing through him
But I was not
Church
Why is it
In my bed
before I go to church
I always exhale
Maybe I’m thinking too much
going out is easy
Calder
On Anita Avenue
I sat in your living room
Having morning coffee with your dad
Talking of a burdened man
Waiting for you
To take your shower
And play a song I knew nothing about
Because you were burdened too
As morning grew
The music became louder
My mind had looped his Martin croon
Taking me back to Amsterdam
It had proven
Calder held a certain power
A band I joined after knowing you
For I was a burdened too
Train Whistle
It’s no surprise to too many
That I get lost all the time
I repeat myself; stuttering, stumbling
I circle on a friendly tree
My grin extends at the irony; only that
Familiarity is a soft-porn hatred
That tweaks the stomach sour
And weakens my legs from walking
A sad whistle breathes in and sighs
Somewhere heard near my street
It is a train, groaning and grinding
Pulling tired wheels on an endless line
Chanting to my sleepy mind
Morning must be coming
Morning must be coming
Morning must be coming
Hollywood
Somewhere out in Hollywood
There is my neighbor
Who is posing in a shimmering dress
Each silver thread
Kissing back the flashing lenses
Holding close a man
Who is touching her open back
And in a whispering dialect
They smile to each other
“As you are, so am I.”
~
So wrapped up in sheets
The two were sent to bed
The reporters to the press
To show the people who they missed
Only through my neighbor’s glass
December
From my window
A squirrel runs across
The wooden backyard fence
From my window
The sky has turned
A deeper shade of red
From my window
The yellow sun touches
Homes that weave on corners
From my window
There can be seen
A larger world than mine
Exes
Aaron, Ben and I
Sat in silence for a time
But only after a time of talk
We bantered
Of women we once had met
“From one friend to another,”
Said the one in slacks
“I couldn’t be with her;
I lost all my respect.”
With so much desire
I pondered this
For weeks on end
Thinking of the middle child
Looking to his dad, his mother
Watching them grow apart
And from that point on
To the arrestingly present now
His life would be at odds
Longing just below the brow
What a silent time that was
Insecurity #1
Am I too late?
To Matt
You and I
Sat on the hill
Just by our porch
We were silent
As the setting sun
Turned the clouds pink
There was talk
From the neighbor’s house
Of a poisonous year
But for today
We sat in awe
Magenta filling in our acid tears