blake ellington larson

Month: November, 2017

oh, death

you tired tyrant, you sleepy monolith of epic clarity, you heavy heavy air, you and your shelf life, you and your tired old obituaries and your faded paperback detective stories and your make-believe airports and your broken pencils and your unfinished crosswords and your late night secret-coffee-monologue-poems and your evening sketches, you and your serious blanket isolation, you, the owl to my wingspan, you and your secret cauldron promises and your sweet forgiveness, your bliss acceptance, you and your choose-your-own-adventure never-land dreams, and your secret crutch, your hidden misery, your red riding hood shroud and your sunny, perfect days, you and your clear glass fate and your mountains and your lakes and your wind, you and your full laughter and your full tilt exorcism, you and your axe, you and your final blow, and your final breath –

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oh, sad and heavy news

you unwanted guest, you silent waiter, you and your appropriate attire. you and your clean cut and your deep breath. you and your open krishna mouth and your endless dark matter. you and your forever sunrise and your endless night. you and your sudden whip and your instant forgiveness. you, the long distance traveler to my seasoned response. you the patient mentor to my grief. oh, sad and heavy news, won’t you, for once, join me in a prayer? won’t you help me turn back time? If it’s in your power to disassemble, surely we can turn the tide. surely, we’re magicians, after all –