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Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
August 19, 2015
Sundrop by Concora is a fine example of how even the simplest shape can create a powerful concrete poem.
Featured by LiliWrites
Literature Text
o
n
some
days I
watch you
rise and rage
with a new year
firework fervour–
untamed and glorious,
pulling the years together
with a snap of your fingers.
but some days you are languid,
stretching like the summer dusting
of freckles along your forearms, the
slumberous strands of hair shuttering
your sky-eyes from the morning light.
on these days, I think the earth spins
slower and the birds sing a little
quieter. on these days, I look
at you and I think:
sundrop.
n
some
days I
watch you
rise and rage
with a new year
firework fervour–
untamed and glorious,
pulling the years together
with a snap of your fingers.
but some days you are languid,
stretching like the summer dusting
of freckles along your forearms, the
slumberous strands of hair shuttering
your sky-eyes from the morning light.
on these days, I think the earth spins
slower and the birds sing a little
quieter. on these days, I look
at you and I think:
sundrop.
Literature
Things they don't tell you.
Things they don’t tell you about losing your grandfather on a Tuesday night:
When you wake the next morning, you still
need to get out of bed in time for work, you still
have to shower, dress yourself, eat breakfast, brush
your teeth and hair;
and when your mother calls
to check in, you have to comfort her because she lost
her dad last night;
and when you call your grandmother
your voice cannot waver lest you upset her, because
she lost a man she's known for seventy years and even
though she would never hold it against you, you still
feel obligated not to cry;
Literature
155 days of rain
the doctor asked me if i felt positively
about myself as a person and i bit his hand,
said send me to Seattle
so i can learn what these scars mean.
the rain baptized only my hair: my entire body
stayed dry but i felt like a mermaid,
a drop of sky turned summer soul. years ago,
a boy came to me from Seattle and dug his nails
into my palms to name me crescent moon.
i followed that crooked smile across state borders,
let it lead me to the widest horizon you can imagine.
our love was Thales’ wet dream: all water,
endless ocean to swim and swim and drown in.
i’ve got strong legs and a weak head,
never knew the meaning of
Literature
la lune
Michael said that the moon shrinks
at a rate of 0.2 centimeters per year
due to the Earth’s gravitational pull.
i held his hand the way
sticky children hold sticky popsicle sticks
and told him that
the moon is just Shakespeare’s way of saying goodbye.
“and gravity is just falling,” he says
and i blink fast enough until i can see
little popsicle juice drops behind my eyelids.
i imagine myself smearing them across his knuckles,
making him all cherry blood.
i don’t think the Earth knows where it’s going
because if shrinking is the result of just too much strength
then Michael doesn’t know w
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Inspired slightly by this lovely piece: [link]
-
Featured:
Here by `thetaoofchaos
Here by =HillsOfMyst
Thank you!
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Comments59
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Wow!! Beautiful