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Art astronomy belief comfort divinity gratitude love poetry

John Dorsey, John Dorsey, John Dorsey

if the shelves of hell are lined

with all the books

that should have been written

please know

there’s a big gaudy ass pink satiny lace volume

of poetry i didn’t write about you

sitting quietly in the

damn, but didn’t we have fun

section

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lore

just a man

drag off a cigarette smirk

a walking shell game

snake in a can

so backwards in life

one questions

reports of his death

yet

he would crookedly smile

calling it

legend

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photography poetic theory poetry pop culture publishing punk travel writing Urban Legends womens studies words writing

writing implements

Instrument of Destruction
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Art beauty physics religious studies rituals romance

ornate fictions

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Poof* Take MY water

https://youtu.be/eg2Kw1jIXOw

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art belief cemeteries childhood Christmas chronology comfort dance death divinity fucking funerals happiness humanity life love poetry religion science science writing self-care shooting stars travel writing writing

travel writing

what we call eternity lasts

approximately 3 seconds

it is the state of a happy heart

at the moment of your death

as your brain powers down

the last thing it processes are images of

everything you ever loved

mercifully

that is our shared heaven

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Uncategorized

That’s my kid up there!

I’ve adopted

a son at work

who still lives at home

in my cubicle.

He has a shock of dark hair

that follows him like a storm cloud.

He teaches music.

He plays in a coupla bands.

He’s a good dad.

He borrows my nail polish

& asks me to braid

the nimbus of his hair.

He’s a badass rocker.

He has that ancient magic,

voodoo child guitarist,

maestro.

But the day he said

you’ve been a better mom to me

than my own,

because I offered to mail an envelope…

he became mine.

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For Nairb Eeryt

the moment you turned & walked into the room

my world went Peckinpah

explosions of laughter

and parking garage lore

you are the unlikeliest surprise

a penultimate friendship

my war horse riding brother

charging beside me off

to our generation’s wars

in armor made from James Joyce t-shirts

imagine my uncorked shock

to meet a lion experimental

unmormon poseidon

over-the-rhine renaissance

gypsy king

this day is your birthday

you sit back all Kerouac

this day is for breaking someone else’s heart

so stick around

i’m gonna read this poem out loud to you from a stage

my next gig in town

& there’s a band I wanna go see with you

every tomorrow night

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art beauty humanity literature love poetry Uncategorized writing

on stray cats

writers take in

& tend to each other

giving

a warm place to sleep

in the heart

a saucer of milk

lines dedicated

meat nibbled bones of relief

the way loving souls dote

on stray cats

they cannot keep

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analysis art behavior fashion girl stuff happiness poetry punk Uncategorized

love in the time of chipped nail polish

me walking in my late thirties overcoat

on the sidewalk behind her

downwind

she smelled like Love’s Baby Soft

cigarettes

Doc Martins lockstep with teenage sin

and i thought how freeing it would be

to be that oblivious again