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The Anesthesiologist.

Bow tie underneath a grin

Peeking out as he looks in

To greet the body

Waiting for

His recipe for making sleep.

The anesthesiologist

Keeps a special, secret list… 47 more words

Loneliness, A Surprise

Did you ever think
that loneliness had a sound
so loud you can’t think?

Original Poetry

Not For Me

Meditation is
a bullshit way to quiet
my lies that want truth.

Original Poetry

Dear Donald:

You say “locker room”
and I wake up
to thorns scraping
my hips
from vines I had been
too sleepdrunk
to know were there.

Roots growing down into… 49 more words


Original poem #65

Mistress Earth

such dry bones
so much flesh subdued
lifetimes of wisdom wasted
so many nights removed

i have heard my voice
 cast in pain
  her earth name
bleeding in echo-dark caverns
tearing in shock
out of chorus
under low and starless skies

i have trodden her desperate wastes
passed the fires and the pits
 and down to where
  the deep things die

rot feeds future fields

i've carried mountains
 on my breaking back
chained by my stars
drowning in bars

she summons me
 by each
  of my names

JL Harrington

Betrayal, Trust and Rubber Gloves.

I’m “on my way”…
or, so they say…
to wholeness,
and to healing,
a widely prophesied,
place made of:
my “better days”…
while, somehow…
I’m still circling… 149 more words

Americana Injustica