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| dawn cycle a collection of morning poems. honeysuckle i was not meant to sit alone but to press bodies and be pressed down and not seen by outside eyes for a week or more it seems a week is enough for lust to run itself through me although i am unlike others and would perhaps require more so i take notice now and then of who fills the spaces beside me come dawn there is no one still to share my table and perhaps take my lips to theirs for they will never put their words to me as they would to the sweet ones who smell of honeysuckle and summers spent always in kentucky a woman stretched sweetly you never could pass by a woman stretched sweetly into her choice of skin demanding each dawn dreams of the boys you have never been i feel the confusion of my limbs and your restless hands that shake the sheets but never reveal their true direction more to remember if only there were more to remember than your brand-name hair and curiously unsure hands did we kiss? thin-lipped answer yes waking to an unknown spring-broken dawn i see the logic of your absence before my eyes find you gone but the mouth you left behind remains the same to kiss the next lover and the next with untiring hope of an end far so far apart was it her walk that turned your head first to talk? or her sweet candy ringlets which flew far so far apart? possibly i was too compact for you so you have left me with no words only a supposed rest and dawn |
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| bruce the bard |
| with swift and nimble fingers i ply my trade... |
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