Poetry

Rain

Rain dappling my window. The yellow streetlight making it look like gold dust. The smell Speaks of rebirth And growth And then It stops, so quickly Too suddenly. I need it And want it To help repair What has become cracked dry, and jaded. – Judi Reed, 2015

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Poetry

Untitled

As I run my fingers Through your hair I wonder Whether when I reach the tips… I should let them slip gently through my fingers Or curl my fingers in your hair At the base of the skull And give a sharp tug. To release tension at the roots When …

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Poetry

Sifting

Sifting Constantly sifting. As I work, winds blow and the particles keep moving And I don’t know Anymore What I’ve already explored As my surroundings keep changing Micro inspecting Is exhausting enough But that fine silt Which keeps moving Depending on the wind current Feels impossible to keep up with …

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