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September 3, 2020
by Admin
Love isn’t always magic. Like a windshield wiper in a flooding car But I know now it doesn’t matter how well I say grace, if I am sitting a table where I am offering no bread to eat. you built me a time capsule full of big league chew Now every time I hear the word love or it's black and blue Love isn’t always magic.… I wrote too many poems Maybe I need you the way that big moon needs that open sea I kept it in my freezer for 7 months until the day I hurt my foot and needed something to reduce the swelling. For the winter we heated our home from the steam off our own bodies And asked if I wanted to borrow some sugar you can have every acre, Love. In a language I did not yet know how to speak Things that cross my mind during quarantine: Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com. The winter I told you I think icicles are magic,you stole an enormous icicle from a neighbors shingleand gave it to me as a giftI kept it in my freezer for seven months until the day I hurt my footand needed something to reduce the swellingLove isn’t always magicsometimes it’s just meltingor it’s black and bluewhere it hurts the most, Last night I saw your ghostpedalling a bicycle with a baskettowards a moon as full as my heavy headand I wanted nothing more than to be sitting in that basketlike ET with my glowing heart glowing right through my chest and my glowing finger pointing in the direction of our home, Two years ago I said I never want to write our break up poem;you built me a time capsule full of big league chew and promised to never burst my bubbleI loved you from our first date at the batting cages when I missed 23 balls in a row and you looked at me like I was a home run in the ninth inning of the world series Now every time I hear the word, ‘love’, I think going, going…, The first week you were gone, I kept seeing your hand wave goodbye like a windshield wiper in a flooding carin the last real moment I believed the hurricane would let me out alive, Yesterday I carved your name into the surface of an ice cubethen held it against my chest ‘til it melted into my aching poresToday I cried so hard the neighbors knocked on my doorand asked if I wanted to borrow some sugarI told them I left my sweet tooth in your belly button, Love isn’t always magicbut if I offered my life to the magician if I told her to cut me in halfSo tonight I could come to you wholeand ask for you backwould you listenfor this dark alley love song, For the winter we heated our home from the steam off our own bodies?I wrote you too many poems in a language I did not yet know how to speakBut I know now it doesn’t matter how well I say grace if I am sitting at a table where I am offering no bread to eatSo this is my wheat field;you can have every acre, Love, This is my garden songThis is my fist fightwith that bitter frostTonight I begged another stage light to become that back alley street lamp that we danced beneath the night your warm mouth fell on my timid cheekas I sang, maybe I need youoff keybut in tune, Maybe I need you the way that big moon needs that open seaMaybe I didn’t even know was here ‘til I saw you holding meGive me one room to come home togive me the palm of your handEvery strand of my hair is a kite stringand I have been blue in the face with your sky crying a flood over Iowa so you mother can wake to Venice, Lover, I smashed my glass slipper to build a stained glass window for every wall inside my chestNow my heart is a pressed flower and a tattered BibleIt is the one verse you can trust, So I’m putting all of my words in your collection plateI am setting the table with bread and graceMy knees are bentlike the corner of a pageI am saving your place, A letter to my dog, exploring the human condition, I Sing The Body Electric; Especially When My Power Is Out. A break up poem by Andrea Gibson recorded by meAndrea Gibson is an award-winning poet and activist who lives in Boulder, Colorado. I wrote you too many poems in a language I did not yet know how to speak Pointing in the direction of our home And I have been blue in the face with your sky And the last real moment I believed the hurricane would let me out alive It is this raw fearlessness that has led her to the forefront of the spoken word movement-- the first winner of the Women's World Poetry Slam --Gibson has headlined prestigious performance venues coast to coast with powerful readings on war, class, gender, bullying, white privilege, sexuality, love, and spirituality.Her work has been featured on the BBC, Air America, C-SPAN, Free Speech TV and in 2010 was read by a state representative in lieu of morning prayer at the Utah State Legislature. Make sure your selection BUY NOW: Button Poetry | Indie Bound | Barnes & Noble | Amazon. And I have been blue in the face with your sky, crying a flood over Iowa, so your mother can wake to Venice. as I sang, maybe I need you With that bitter frost I am setting the table with bread and grace Change ), You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out / Give me the palm of your hand Give me the palm of your hand. And you looked at me Andrea Gibson "Letter to My Dog, Exploring the Human Condition" @ Underground Arts, Apr. Is a pressed flower ( Log Out / Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email. “ going, going… ” knees are bent, Like the corner of a page 've 3,219! Them I left my sweet tooth in your belly Button on my door and asked if I wanted borrow! Its black and blue, where its black and blue, where it hurts the.! Underground Arts, Apr | Barnes & Noble | Amazon am andrea gibson - maybe i need you the table with and... M putting all of my words in your belly Button personal noncommercial only! 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