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"Not to bring up something upsetting, but when you leave here today, you may go through a period of unemployment. My suggestion is this: Enjoy the unemployment. Have a second cup of coffee. Go to the park. Read Walt Whitman. Walt Whitman loved being unemployed. I don't believe he ever did a day's work in his life. As you may know, he was a poet. If a lot of time goes by and you continue to be unemployed, you may want to consider announcing to all appropriate parties that you have become a poet."

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

shorties

CAP HILL

I walk on the ancient pavement, body spent, floating away
As the buildings with their eyes wide stare me down with furrowed brows
My rhythm starts a brand new beat beneath me, shoes fresh on the ice
And I will follow the cold lights where they lead me to shadow

I search all the statue’s empty eyes for the ghost of a god
I can’t find the sky that I used to know in the back of my mind
The sun that I grew up with doesn’t have the same sound
But it’s burned slow and steady here for quite some time

NOTICE

I don’t know what you know about me
And you don’t know what I know about you, the blind truth
You’re patient and your kind I can see it in your eyes
And I’m pretty sure I’m best when your hand is on my chest
My heart beats fast and you notice
Even if it’s just a short while
In the darkness for a little while

GONE

There it is, gone
The moon on your wedding day
Pushing down the sun
Disco sky on the way
To the middle of the night
China breaks when you throw it right
Take another swing
There’s no love if you never fight

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