Roots

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Try to wash the dirt off my leaves,
The sun would make the drops fly,
Brown would coagulate,
And then you’d sigh.
Green would sprout
With an outward brightness,
An inward progress, shining loud,
Only if you water my roots
That burrow far from the hyped cloud…

 

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Swim

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“This summer I went swimming,
This summer I might have drowned
But I held my breath and I kicked my feet
And I moved my arms around…”

Loudon Wainwright III, Swimming Song 

photo by Cristian Álvarez, courtesy of unsplash.com 

Pain

 

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“The pain is smart enough to poet out a space, where bruises are verse and rhymes are moans, over and over again.”

Tiffany McDaniel, The Summer that Melted Everything

photo by Stefano Pollio, courtesy of unsplash.com
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