lei fraser
imagine.create.become
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Category: Poetry
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I didn’t ask for thisthese lines and curves etched in stonebroken songs lost poetryinterrupted by the turningof the sunthe moonI didn’t ask for thisthe wandering stringsthat tie this heart to anotherheld by a fish hook throughscaled flesh in spite of myselfbroken songslost poetry interrupted by the turning of the sunthe moonI didn’t ask for thiswhen…
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a part of me remains unchanged in the time we have known each other your reflection a drop falling to meet the calm, cool lake water moments wrapped in layers like pebbles rolling in endless waves I am there that part of me that has always been tumbling You are there in those rolling ripples…
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like a fly crawling across the screen door on a hot August afternoon time passes in slow plodding steps when you are gone I listen to the cicada scream in the trees the heat of the day grows as I coax another minute on the clock to stumble into the past you are never far…
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where do I begin along these empty lines to unfold the days lay them out on the desk in carefully crafted phrases wind them in delicate circles around my body tucked into a thousand pieces of paper waiting for the north wind to catch them through the window beginning with hope laughter in the fresh…
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turn the dial as the sun passes the window orange glow soup heats on the stove I stretch my arms to wrap around the empty space empty embrace before me fluorescent light distorts my reflection lines point in different directions around the eyes don’t know where to look to find the truth which line to…
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lines on the page drawn with a careful hand outlines move in slow curves to the centre crossing over in unexpected intersections blank pages slowly fill colour pulled by sunlight sneaking through cracks we are okay alone living in the corners of our soul but together is better when the lines meet before continuing on…
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your voice falls over me like honey from a spoon held high enough to slip down to cover to soothe to calm me I breathe again for the first time not realizing I had held my breath for years breath comes dressed in laughter in tears in healing in freedom an unintended gift perhaps not…
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the pause after the end leaning into another beginning that place I want need to step into it fold my body fold my heart fold myself to curl around you to hold you close to me and be held beyond the edge of myself but like a thousand steel needles I fear if I close…
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I have let these threads weave between us in loose and fragile patterns that complicates itself in the futility of existence I go and return to you as the sun passes the window pulling light into corners where it has not touched yet before leaving again I wake and sleep not moving in this isolation…
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I have not loved you in the first 18,471 days I have known you not once I have not felt a tenderness towards you or felt compassion in seeing your reflection or cared for you before another not once I have not walked through my soul’s estate wondering what I could do to care for…
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one hundred and eighty two days blurred together like paint smeared on canvas like a photograph left too long in the sun like gibberish dreams that fill the night nothing makes sense silence binds isolation with threads left dangling, untended to knot in the early fall winds introspection dances on the edge with uncertainty avoidance…
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crowded together pressed against mind’s edge empty and faceless peer over the railing above the page pushed against each other they perch to leap first land unscathed between the lines reaching outward towards where my head lies on the desk resting and tiptoe onto my outstretched hand ~ la 2020