Poetry By
Kristin Fullerton
Published on: 2/3/2015
Building
Coffee and cream, newspaper, a cup and a plate, a cigarette: all minutes spent, drowning the bird calls in my throat. Discarding words, suffocated under the weight of usage, some of us must sift through and arrange the shadows into discourse. No one has to strip down to darkness. The unbuttoning of your mouth is a curtain, ripping light into the living room at dawn.
Published on: 1/30/2015
Like Jazz
When I am taut like cello strings: Press your ear to the table I will whisper like jazz vibrate the whiskey in your glass dance the ice cubes in three-four time. Slide your heart to the floor I will love you like jazz Circle the intent in your hands Scale your thoughts in five-eight time. I will tell you things you already know. (mark this date in your calendar)
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