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Copyright © 2009 Wordletting. All rights reserved. All rights to the poetry on this website are owned by the individual authors, and no part of this site may be reproduced, published, distributed, displayed, performed, copied, or used in any other manner for public or private purposes. |
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Issue 3 |
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Page 1 |
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Preferences
Wouldn’t you rather we walk down the avenues of rain trading verses from Poe like black roses and only take our best memories with us and the small butterfly tattoo on the back of your neck wouldn’t you rather the government forgot our faces our names and when we’re faraway and finally beyond the boom of waves wouldn’t you rather I put my hand in the flame between your legs well I would
— Howie Good |
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Present
We both know that I’ve left you before, and without a thought really, for another place with longer shadows I’d visited, or some mountain range I’ve always wanted to; running my hands over orchid-smooth skin. While you stayed right here, continuing on without judgment or bitterness, without anything but yourself, which of course changes every time I go away; though always, somehow, for the better; and often even having placed, in your haphazard way, somewhere in my periphery, and sometimes right beneath my nose, a gift.
— Mark Lavorato |
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The Sea
Walking down the street, I empty my pockets of the sea I was looking after for you. Mussels come tumbling first, cracking open their castanet shells on the pavement. Acres of seaweed and oysters. Taking a deep breath, I pour an ocean into the middle of the road. Islands of people and cars bob in the newly created sea. Somewhere amongst this is an old trawler. You are inside, sending signals back to a lighthouse forgotten in a trouser pocket.
— Christian Ward |