When knees fall

When knees touch ground, the sacred seem to listen. Knees do not bend in trivia. Like a page folded from our story. Knees mark

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Rib’s cage

There you pine, jailed in that ribcage. The little plastic army men are keeping you at bay. Turnstiles click at each year’s passing. Neon

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Snow trumpets

Can you hear the snow’s quiet trumpet Its silent song serenading the gray Cold flakes falling in the ballroom of winter Gravity tickles loose

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Memory’s tower

Oh memory’s tower, how long overdue is this inspection. Today, I behold thee, my monument to passing. You are my stronghold, my bastion of

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