The Conjuring

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In the heart of nightfall,
she takes cover under a flock of bat wings,
persuading the ground beneath her
to exhume the dead from an
ill-fated land without illumination.

When her voice undoes an obsolete curse
her power succumbs to the clouds,
releasing demonic sorcery,
so penetrating,
that our world weakens to
its calamitous impact
instantaneously.

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Bookish

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One book in hand,
I read between the flames,
deciphering how the fire stove bugs
get hypnotized by a
sulfuric grave.

Daring to peek outside,
the soft swishing of summer residue
tumbles down my backyard staircase.
As this yellow-orange array pulls through,
winds climb up tree house chimney tops,
gathering more decaying whispers.

Opening the hinges,
I start a new life
where the first page begins,
becoming spellbound by
a thousand words before me,
eager to be seen—
craving for their story to unsheathe.

Hermosa Alma

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Breathing roses,
I soak in each ray,
enshrouded inside
Heaven’s wings.

Her feathers unfold before me,
revealing the purest soul
made of light and limber flesh.

She takes my pain—
red ribboned sorrows
and hatches a sun
to keep my wounds warm.

Both hands of mine,
lose touch with the
Earth beneath,
holding onto
only a
virtue.

I feel
an ocean’s sway,
a cherub’s polite gesture,
that I am
privileged to
embrace
with the
utmost
joy.

Sending all my wisdom
to the border,
the stars and sky
coagulate
for welcoming
an iridescent spirit
back home
where epiphanies sigh
and I rest in
peace of mind.

Yield Sign

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Hands held against a steering wheel,
we headed straight for the crossroads,
where nobody could touch
our thunder—
disheveled, dark horse souls
rolling into the rough and restless nights,
hanging high-strung above our kneecaps.

We used to read stories
about a fictitious love
that two people struggled in their hearts to
keep,
and as we drove farther out of dusk,
I fell for flashes of belief;
no headlights could scare the slightest daze I’ve ever
conceived.

Nearly there though,
a day break warns me to
slow down,
so I won’t cry in the morning.
A shriek in humidity,
clouds my precocious judgement.
I swallow a car alarm,
the becoming of a new flavor on my sour tongue.

With the speed gauge stirring us forward,
my blood frothing closer to its final limits,
a feeling inside exits the back-lit window;
all the while when you turn numb, failing to construe,
what it means to swiftly desire a little something more than you.