The Grass is Black/The Air is Pink

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feel me/read me/follow me

August 9,2010

so the other day to celebrate my
twenty-first birthday
I cooked a book
I cooked a book in soup
’til the flavor soaked the pages
and the little bits of herbs
changed certain words

so the other day to celebrate my
twenty-first birthday
I baked a few of my poems:
poems that I had written about love,
aging and sensuality (that I will never
really know)
I baked my poems
and I fucking burned them ’til they were
black like coal
and when I picked them up to give to you
they broke up into velvety ashes in my
hands…

written: August 12,2010

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