Dual
He's hellish haven That won't stay still And I know damn well Not one to balance. His lunacy The sane one Discerns the complexities While the other side retorts in haste Laconic disregard of our bond. Soon, Rudeness spills from his sly grimace In the hopes I won't be able to tell If he hides Or if it's just those damaged goods. He's karmic A jailer A jail Too potent for my taste bud But I'm addicted nonetheless To the...

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Unanswered
Who are they? And where from? Old lovers, friends, sons, fathers, brothers Those who helped, guided, worried, cared Same ones who left, changed me for, walked away from, grew to hate My lost men. Who are they? Jitters arise for their attention I long for their excitement Mourning when they find another better Satisfied when they laugh it out Inevitably expecting A reaction. Why them? Why me? Who were we until now? Old flames in transformation Merge and part And...

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Baroque
You're so classic, almost baroque. Must be those strands, it's been a while since you let them be; coarse between my fingers, opulent mahogany curl, streaked with silver anguish, and the burnt butter of your skin. Yes, I know what the harshness of grey skies did to our mane. You're such a moth ball now, although I still like you in a suit, when you give off the aroma of a cool cathedral, enclosed, quiet. Time's debris floats in subdued...

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River
February skies my hearth, wind whispers my name transparent, knowledgable of its nature. I was raised in this winter quadrant, the Sun to the horizon, and they said it's in detriment but I'm not bothered. My name runs through and is lost, but will find other hearths on its unpredictable voyage. Because I randomize, that is my fort, gusts out of synch. But today the Sun has snuggled up to Saturn, and I must see reality, fine as this day's...

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Transfusion
I guess you were meant to iron me out, after times of intense ambition,  climbing cliffs, goat's hoofs embedded in solid rock. Games for climbers, persevere up the steep and, I suspect, maybe I got lost in it, and this round has to be the last of that. You must spend all of me, empty my pockets. Imagine our tie as a promise made a while back, of bleeding it all away, and soon to come, the full transfusion. Total...

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Sonia (novelette continues)
Marshmallow candy
Rhaya never forgot anything of what came after that particular morning, but it was clearly part of the past. Something she had gone through and seen to the very end. But now with her niece Sonia emotions stirred. A shake of the old vinaigrette which had been sitting in her mental fridge for ages. The contents still there, unchanged, but for a while the particles whirled in chaos before settling.  Sunny radiant Sonia had ash blonde hair, grayish eyes, wholesome...

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Brother’s Soul Recap
He sits with a purpose, stays without strain, Concise as a butterfly, a star self guided. Perspires soil, but his heart might bring rain, Trickling down, Streaming along clefts. He practices the main performance, Won't strive for more than a moment's perfection, Repetition his prayer, delivers good. I do believe, His life might be a river, an intricately woven quilt, Sewn-in careful observation, Of each and every infant stitch. And his mind might be open country, sown in neat rows,...

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Potbelly Bump (novelette continues)
There is no such thing as a homemaker who is only that. A mother to three young ladies in their teens, Rhaya knew better than to conceive such bland thoughts about motherhood, even if the now older millennials insisted on asking what she did for a living, if she had a LinkedIn profile, or what her professional title was. Sometimes, on a flight to see her sister Amanda who lived south, she came across silly questions from fellow passengers chit-chat....

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Rhaya’s Arrival (as told by the apprentice guardian)
Chapter One of the novelette ¿Who Will Help Sonia?  I met Rhaya in the institutional green delivery room. I'm not complaining, it was a very decent hospital in the seventies. I was supposed to be there upon arrival when that baby's body was finally forced out into the dry, temperature controlled atmosphere. I didn’t know what to expect, this being my very first job as a guardian. As soon as she shot out of the liquid medium and fell into the...

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Familiar Stranger
We don't know who he is. Some days, a misunderstood prophet, come back from the last days of his trials, when the townspeople wouldn't listen. Others, an artist taken over by a passion, meaning to write up in a frenzy, unable to stop himself, in some quest against time. ¿Will he reveal the secrets commended? His violin bold drama. Soon after, hands strike the piano keys composing his own pieces, at times morose, later epical. He tiktoks existential, wielding a...

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