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Norman Santos

What The Scarecrow Denied

Vagaries that revealed nothing
but the flames in the viscera
crowing with a murder of crow -
a dark void of ponderous misery
under the dark wings, and bleared
behind the sore caterwauling;
Perched under an erratic weather
waiting to be hauled out, but
ousting every chance with
an arrogant stead for humility.

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Hummingbird

Kite-wings
Against the gust
A dandelion-chance
In the sky of lust
Scintillating whispers
Of charming grace
Siege and cipher
Infinitesimal daze
Pollens adrift
Your compass
Nectar-beak
Abide the weather
Of your fleet
And the colors
Prancing through
The metallic veneer
Of your feather's
Lulling hymns,
Hummingbird.

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Pits

The coals pressed tighter
Beneath my daunted feet
As I breathe out
And not breathe in
In the famished mouth
Of this tarnished pit.
I don't need your pity,
I don't want your empathy,
You can stand like towers
And watch over me
And rise from the sores
Of this shrilling vale
But you would never know
What the pits
Told me.

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Woes Versus Rues IV

Our veiled words
And adamant liaison
"Where are they? "
I asked myself, I ask you
Knowing full that I have changed
Under a stronger harlequinade
I no longer recognize the mirrors
Or the aborted reticence
Even in your generosity
I guess we've lost the man,
Who named you once
"Sybella, the lady of secrets."

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Tethered To Broken Ties

Zithered strings that was as sanguine
as the machinations of the continents -
the distance behind the iron curtains
like a fountain of oasis, there is
a drought slumbering deep within
bludgeoning messages upon
the crest of the frothy mirage
under the jousting sun; It makes
everything harder at its best
when I yearn for what I can't.

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Astigmatism

Parallel on the same plane
Fact or fiction?
You lying next to me
Seems an obscured vision.
Your breath so warm
Hands are sweaty
Your head on my arms
Heavy and weary.
Bird's eye, clear view
A song without a stage
A sad banner of notes
Breaking the brassy cage
Like a sudden rain
Broke the chain
Reality notched in
So close but far away.

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Woes Versus Rues III

On the other hand she says
"You are not just a friend…"
Her distant breath weaving warmth
"You are a family."
across the oceanic miles
But what is a family?
And what is a friend?
I felt a cold crawl up my spine
But I shrug it off and avoided
To ask which is more likely
To be ephemeral
Perhaps it was all surmised.

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The River

A calm river disturbed
is like a cold torrent thunder
It flows a fume of emotion
and ebbs back gave and somber
Its frosty water - sad and serene
and her tears are even colder
a mirror of beautiful scenes
dreamy fluid luster
Futile and still,
I soaked my feet in the river
she responded with the hostility
of the squirming chill inside her.

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Vociferous

You are my infinite
life and death
and because of you
I am not afraid
to be afraid
because your hands
honed my calluses,
combed my mane,
and tamed my fangs
and taught the lion
to meander undone
and tonight, as the mountain
goes brown and slowly
and the moon masquerades
I roar for you again
over and over
until your mountains
will be moved

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Widow Pianist

Two hours before existence
He struck mindlessly
Lashing out, trying blindly
With ears bolted
From the contoured melody
And lips busy
In a genocide
A banshee fritters away
With the pressing of
His stale scrawny fingers
In a somnolent levity
Teeming with apprehension
And siphoned of tranquility
I am not a widow pianist.
How can I endure this?

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