gummyrabbit's avatar
70 Watchers23.1K Page Views77 Deviations
D
Deer
You came back in the fall and I told you you could go — already almost gone like the deer I came upon one day, slow breathing beside me before it leaped. You stayed and stayed and now the air is crisp with lack of you.
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11
R
Rising
Clear days I can see Catalina first hill from my house. Once they played Rocket Man as I hit the top, specks of oilrigs in the ocean.
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H
Harvest
The factories have taken the sugar cane to themselves. In Hawaii, fields blow gold beneath spreading blue-black thundercloud. The grapefruit go away in cans.
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8
A
Ashley and I in Alaska
We’ll work in Alaska this summer and in my mind we drive through cold wet wastelands in the night, playing Physical Graffiti. Some nights we stop at lost motels in Canada and when we get there, I’m wearing flannels and I’m tan. We wash dishes all day, we swim in the lake beneath cold mountains, the camping American families cook food from red coolers. Her silence never reaches me.
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W
White Center, 1957, Mark Rothko
A woman told me once, On weekends I drive into LA, brave all the traffic, pay the fifteen dollar parking, sit in front of Rothko all afternoon.  After that I assume she drinks slow-brewed hazelnut lattes, listens to concertos in the Biltmore, skydives off the Bank Tower.   I tried to sit in front of it, tried to see it.  The first time I saw it, I was fifteen; I was with a brilliant woman who studied philosophy and killed herself at Princeton, and she said, Look, it bleeds. He meant it to express great joy. I could never see it after that. I tried driving into LA, tried paying the fifteen dollar parking, told myself, Look, here it is, you
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T
Two Hundred Miles West
I sat looking west in the Mojave and I thought of your burning, Los Angeles, your phosphorescent nighttimes, your heavy exhalation of industrial smoke. I thought of your burning, Los Angeles, and the edge of the west transfixed in your heavy exhalation of industrial smoke. The seeping toxins of Tijuana transfix the edge of the West in currents of chemical unlife. The seeping toxins of Tijuana are in our black breakers that role in the night. Currents of chemical unlife in the red drinking water of Vernon, in our black breakers that role in the night where America ends in the sea. In the red drinking water of Vernon we swallow factories fo
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G
Grace
On Monday they must have burned your fur. Wolf dog, Sirius dog, your eyes shone motionless. It wasn’t death that hardened your muscles, froze your paws – it was something leaving. It grows in flowers, moves in leaves. It left the thick fur behind your ears last of all.
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7
I
Interior
In the morning at my grandma’s, gilt teacups and silence, and the cats eating from bowls in sunlight. When I was twelve, running at midday, the women – “Where do you go to school?” “I don’t.” Mornings at the studio, with the closed blinds, the wet paint, the mineral spirits. Outside, they’re mowing lawns.
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Kalypso's Song
I am the daughter of white-oceaned tropics. As a child, the sun seared the waves around me and the strength of the currents was mine. When you came, I had already grown ancient as the sun, felt, in my power, the infinitude of the sea. You tore like driftwood, bled red into blue water. Your skin sweated salt in the sun. I am fair as the sky here, vast as the horizon. Somewhere, some woman wept salt tears for you and you fought the ocean seven years to find her.
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N
No. 3
    The leaves of the olive tree move soundless    behind glass.
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See all
D
Deer
You came back in the fall and I told you you could go — already almost gone like the deer I came upon one day, slow breathing beside me before it leaped. You stayed and stayed and now the air is crisp with lack of you.
4
11
R
Rising
Clear days I can see Catalina first hill from my house. Once they played Rocket Man as I hit the top, specks of oilrigs in the ocean.
0
1
H
Harvest
The factories have taken the sugar cane to themselves. In Hawaii, fields blow gold beneath spreading blue-black thundercloud. The grapefruit go away in cans.
4
8
A
Ashley and I in Alaska
We’ll work in Alaska this summer and in my mind we drive through cold wet wastelands in the night, playing Physical Graffiti. Some nights we stop at lost motels in Canada and when we get there, I’m wearing flannels and I’m tan. We wash dishes all day, we swim in the lake beneath cold mountains, the camping American families cook food from red coolers. Her silence never reaches me.
0
1
W
White Center, 1957, Mark Rothko
A woman told me once, On weekends I drive into LA, brave all the traffic, pay the fifteen dollar parking, sit in front of Rothko all afternoon.  After that I assume she drinks slow-brewed hazelnut lattes, listens to concertos in the Biltmore, skydives off the Bank Tower.   I tried to sit in front of it, tried to see it.  The first time I saw it, I was fifteen; I was with a brilliant woman who studied philosophy and killed herself at Princeton, and she said, Look, it bleeds. He meant it to express great joy. I could never see it after that. I tried driving into LA, tried paying the fifteen dollar parking, told myself, Look, here it is, you
2
4
T
Two Hundred Miles West
I sat looking west in the Mojave and I thought of your burning, Los Angeles, your phosphorescent nighttimes, your heavy exhalation of industrial smoke. I thought of your burning, Los Angeles, and the edge of the west transfixed in your heavy exhalation of industrial smoke. The seeping toxins of Tijuana transfix the edge of the West in currents of chemical unlife. The seeping toxins of Tijuana are in our black breakers that role in the night. Currents of chemical unlife in the red drinking water of Vernon, in our black breakers that role in the night where America ends in the sea. In the red drinking water of Vernon we swallow factories fo
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G
Grace
On Monday they must have burned your fur. Wolf dog, Sirius dog, your eyes shone motionless. It wasn’t death that hardened your muscles, froze your paws – it was something leaving. It grows in flowers, moves in leaves. It left the thick fur behind your ears last of all.
6
7
I
Interior
In the morning at my grandma’s, gilt teacups and silence, and the cats eating from bowls in sunlight. When I was twelve, running at midday, the women – “Where do you go to school?” “I don’t.” Mornings at the studio, with the closed blinds, the wet paint, the mineral spirits. Outside, they’re mowing lawns.
0
4
K
Kalypso's Song
I am the daughter of white-oceaned tropics. As a child, the sun seared the waves around me and the strength of the currents was mine. When you came, I had already grown ancient as the sun, felt, in my power, the infinitude of the sea. You tore like driftwood, bled red into blue water. Your skin sweated salt in the sun. I am fair as the sky here, vast as the horizon. Somewhere, some woman wept salt tears for you and you fought the ocean seven years to find her.
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N
No. 3
    The leaves of the olive tree move soundless    behind glass.
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B
Breakfast
You told me she had died in a hospital bed With her glasses on So that she could see Death properly And I picked away at my breakfast, Which was pancakes and strawberries, Trying to imagine Her squinting ahead at Him With her dying eyesight The pancakes were dry and store-bought And my plate was a pool of cold syrup And flavorless, Half-eaten strawberries When I had finished, And my hands were stained with the sweet blood And you took my place, Picking away at soggy crumbs.
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Night lights
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A
Armstrong
How was that one small step, that toe press to the unknown world, with dust as soft as sleep beneath your rigid sole? How strange to be alone. In your airless world you walked, a bubble man. A diver surfacing beyond the imagination of coelacanths and arctic squid. You gaped like a fish, perhaps, astounded at the airless air. Perhaps your lips were tight, your nostrils flared, calm and infused with wonder. Perhaps your heart beat harder. You Columbus, a launch pad your springboard, a world of dust your new land. I wonder if you wished to slip your glove. To lie face flat to your desolate ground, to sink fingers in and gr
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J
Jack
Jack ------- Laid low I see, Jackie. My modern day Quartermain                             Boadicea You were my angel,                 mountain and scripture. I could ride the rails with you, Sal. I could pick the urban asphalt scabs and                          sup on it's bitter blood. In eyes    k a l e i d o s c o p i c  with delirium tremens, the nails in my nights are sugar cane     (a delicious forest of wonders and terror) Jackie, Sal, Ray,      wide-eyed child of the railroad earth and Carnivale America dogs and rats- Is your blood dried up (20 proof)     still churning in my gut? Are you my shoe size?
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The Mansion
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S
Scattered
He watches two lovebirds disappear to break to new directions A new frontier, a cutting edge background to the crossroads split And hospitals chasing around tangled heartstrings (or was that the other way around?) He sips his coffee in listless silence Hears voices talking against white noise "Come, let's dance around his broken heart." 100% self-inflicted (it was expected anyway) He was too busy drinking tea in gardens of exotic flowers And (un)synchronized circadian rhythms To realize he was losing on his own He was too busy looking through a one-sided mirror To realize it's better to see through a looking glass But it's not th
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Sennentuntschi
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1.1K
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80
Little Nemo in Slumberland
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529
Red Pandas
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710
S
Sumus de stellis
empty trees with empty branches                       lonely horses on lonely ranches                           why do they run in circles, love?                       lives like that reminiscent of -- sweaters stained with false regret the tears of those with oxygen debt they can't breathe, so they choose to sleep             they can't breathe, they're in too deep you and i are made of stars we lie above where dragons fly    &#
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Mirrored Lines I
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Sonnet to Breath
about the rib. it makes sense. at Out- back my father picks it up, gets it stuck in his teeth, and like a brutish harpist plucks it out, lets it settle. smoking preference? menthol. in- door seat? the closest waterfall. they knife out flower from vegetable. “the game” drags students in collectively, like how a yawn moves-- uncoils out-- humanity starts rippling. how much of school was in a herd like this? how much was ringworm? out here is lonelier; my romance is silent. in time I think of him and am bothered by it. out the window steeps a sunrise. it’s five in the morning. can he sleep? my laptop’s out and holy Book
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Mother Nature
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Brynja.
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Sunset 01
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Venice 6
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1.4K

Spotlight

Spotlight

A
Astro
You are a trajectory from which I have fallen, Moon-bound Earth-boy. With height and speed your molecules shifted; I dropped away by degrees — further, then further. There must be all the sky between us now, but I taste your dust with my fingertips, follow afterglows.
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Spotlight

G
Grace
On Monday they must have burned your fur. Wolf dog, Sirius dog, your eyes shone motionless. It wasn’t death that hardened your muscles, froze your paws – it was something leaving. It grows in flowers, moves in leaves. It left the thick fur behind your ears last of all.
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7
United States
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Comments406

anonymous's avatar
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cristinewakesuphappy's avatar

:+fav:
hi! i hope you don't mind my humble feature:
your lovely pieces have been handpicked.
:bulletblue: (link)
thank you.
:iconbluedancingflower:
Reply  ·  
gummyrabbit's avatar
This is a lovely feature Cristine, thank you so much! I'm honored.
Reply  ·  
cristinewakesuphappy's avatar
:iconluvluvplz:
i am relieved that you don't mind the feature. 
i'm glad that you liked it. i've been admiring your work for as long as i can remember.
Reply  ·  
Calmality's avatar
Calmality|Professional Traditional Artist
Thank you so much for the DD suggestion, it means the world to me! Completely made my day :love:
Reply  ·  
gummyrabbit's avatar
Oh, of course!  I'm so glad!  It's a lovely piece!
Reply  ·  
tirasunil's avatar
tirasunil|Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for the DD suggestion, I can't believe it! :D
Reply  ·  
gummyrabbit's avatar
Of course, it was my pleasure (:
Reply  ·