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Seattle, Washington Photo by Mini Troubadoura

Nights like these
When I still wore plats
I would have taken to the streets
Not for some illicit scavenger hunt
Not for the sake, of stirring the pot     
No, just to feel this mist upon my skin, 
and this wind whisper in my ear                                            
As it is, I find reasons to go outside
The trash must go out
I must purchase candles and condensed soup
My, these doormats need a sweeping
Such matronly neglect shall not go unnoticed
I must stay out a little longer......
And gulp the air as if I am suffocating
For I am suffocating, at times
On nights like these
When my soul swells as if to burst
From the beauty of it all
From the sheer ugliness of it all
Oh, life is hard when hearts are soft
Steals the very breathe from us
Reason brings callouses
To the budding of dreams
And rain weakens roots
So, I must tend to these weeds
As if it is sane to garden
At 1 am in the rain

Minitroubadoura 2018


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At night, when my wings are laid to rest And my love and I prepare for the little death, (The one that has hope of morning light on soft brown skin), I chatter like a child and place my head upon his chest
And there is joy and expectation, for one day We will be planted in the earth like seeds Our bodies laid side by side he and I In the land his ancestors plowed Proudly put an X on the deed (Pride of ownership far outweighing the shame of illiteracy),
My love and I will wait, we, Will wake to true light Every tear, every tear Ever shed, consoled Truth and light Maranatha

Copyright 2018