Shorts

“The moon is like a lemon wedge”, she said.
And I told myself it was beautiful and that I was going to write it down.
We ran with the lemon-wedged moon.

– – – – –

What if she never saw herself as an artist?
Would I be the artist for recognizing her art? I’m taking the truth and I am framing it.

– – – – –

We don’t create, we translate. We just don’t remember when or where we had once felt the same way. All of you poets and creators! We are the same! You describe what is in me.

– – – – –

My story is the most outrageous. Until I hear yours.

– – – – –

We are moments colliding. You remind me of all these other good things.

– – – – –

The music is an animal. A moving mass that has possessed me.
A language. We have diffused into each other.

– – – – –

INVASION:
Thought is a polluter. Please, can you get out of my head.

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