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Remembering You

Remembering You

A ghostly flower blooming and withering,
(or blot) blinking with colors that strain to brightness,
to equal those of what were seen before;
fragments, with the music or plain utterances
attempting to be as loud (or as soft)
as what they really were...

But all in vain.

Blurred and ephemeral. Just for a haunting and fleeting...
Many times an unexpected visitor,
an intruder, inside...

What is complete and constant is that depressing spirit:

Void of form and details, yet lingering, encumbering,
dragging. Punctuated, highlighted,
by the thief that intermittently
gives, curses, and leaves

with a piece.

The Art of Playing

The Art of Playing


Larry, alone in the woods,

hunts his disk golf driver.

Before: certainty, each stroke,

nailing the chain.

Now: uncertainty,

hovering over the grass.

Human plastic.

The wind blows.

His body is a fallible thing.

What is drive anyway?

Just a man's hand reaching

in the day lit grass.

Alicia Cole

Alicia Cole is an accomplished poet, fiction writer and editor. Her most recent work was published by Wayward Sword. She has writing forthcoming in Atlas and Alice and Blossomry.


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