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Literature Text
God traces the letters on tombstones, fondly
remembering the deceased’s first steps
into His house. When He closed
the gates of Eden, the whole world
became a cemetery: the untouched garden
a hospital waiting room, overflowing
with flowers to be arranged
upon funeral wreaths, waiting for Him
to bestow His last gift.
remembering the deceased’s first steps
into His house. When He closed
the gates of Eden, the whole world
became a cemetery: the untouched garden
a hospital waiting room, overflowing
with flowers to be arranged
upon funeral wreaths, waiting for Him
to bestow His last gift.
Literature
An End, Once and For All
I
This is me listening for a ghost
with wildfire-wide eyes on a Tuesday at two a.m.
spiking eagerness with anxious osmosis;
I petition for an identity from a circuit court.
II
This is me listening for the ghost of Ariana Nicole David,
who existed solely in the womb and pride of my mother.
Mom says, with renewed vigorous rigor mortis,
she wanted Ariana enough for her to exist
without ultrasound proof.
Nicholas Aaron Swaner was born on April 17th, 1993
without a father's signature or surname;
Nicholas was born with a father's doubt.
There is a letter to write to Nicholas' father
and his father still hasn't written it yet.
There is someon
Literature
turning to august
do you dream of the way your hands sing, soft as violins, vivid & wild?
do you wake up to the sun playing hopscotch on your floor?
knowing all of this is yours, all of this is you:
glimmering and golden,
the heart of july.
and so i can only call you summer child
and nothing else anymore, nothing less than that - nothing less lively
than the wild of summer, amalgam of burning and dark, the nurture and scorch, resurrection in rain,
the sound of wind swaying grass
soft as violins.
do you sink into warmth like water and remember yourself? swimming lily,
swan-necked, storm-eyed, precious
enough to turn rain into pearls, days into poetry.
sho
Literature
The Last Book
The last book you read
I imagine a little like your last breath
when you don't know that you're dying
just yet - maybe the last book you'll read
will be one you know well, and read a good many times,
breathing life into words by reading them,
making letters, names, stories come alive -
or maybe, the last book that you will read
will be one you have not had the time to learn
how to love; maybe it is difficult to love,
with winding, confusing phrases and a tendency
for the overly mysterious, or dramatic,
and maybe it made you cry -
the last book you read,
will it be a special one? maybe
a beloved's diary, or your own diary entries
about that o
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I, at first, with two fair gifts
Created him endowed—with Happiness
And Immortality; that fondly lost,
This other served but to eternize woe,
Till I provided Death: so Death becomes
His final remedy.
Paradise Lost, Book 11, Lines 57 – 62
God does ordinary things
Created him endowed—with Happiness
And Immortality; that fondly lost,
This other served but to eternize woe,
Till I provided Death: so Death becomes
His final remedy.
Paradise Lost, Book 11, Lines 57 – 62
God does ordinary things
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Comments13
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I think this is my favorite series of yours. I like how much more somber and serious God is in this one, as opposed to may of the others.