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Watch our only world Unravel in its weirdest Ways, trees pray for rest.
- H.H. (2023)

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072
Watch our only world Unravel in its weirdest Ways, trees pray for rest.
- H.H. (2023)

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Juniper Journal’s 6.1.2022 “Firewatch”
Dust cakes on the pylons Like sleep to be picked from waking eyes Arid are the furtive hills Barren are the burrens Fresh with spring winds Shaking winter coats To the needled floor A light, alight, in the night Burning timber, lumber sight Catching brush with painted flames Licking at the weeping sap
Sticking to her fingers, packed with dry dirt Unyielding to trowel strikes Conjuring up spit to smother sparks Small wishes snuffed and stuffed Into the impassable soil and roots Desperate to dig deep Craving decomposition She feeds it the sap she has spilled Lapped up, cottonmouth craving
Eyes that fail to blink Cocked to the side watch the forest Through burned out eyesight Well loved by the sun Too close and sticky With sap? Syrup Trailing like tears Sickly sweet, catching the dust Oh, sweet water, sweet river flowing
What use is a watch for danger Looking too closely for signs To not prepare the periphery Dry-dust-sleep clots her hawk eyes Furrowed, burrowed beneath the ground Affixed in the very place So much attention was transfixed She could not see the smoke within her eyes To see the embers growing Too much undergrowth, Too many sworn under oath Are her hands stained from observing?
Shuddering, shuttering, windows slammed Pictures crammed into pockets Lock it, and stumble to run Every step through the tinderbox valley Sending shock waves Shout! Over radio waves to people on pavement Will the word make it In time?
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Meng Po held steady, her hands, Before whispers best left to the dust, And promised the greenest of grasses, Come but one sip for tomorrow.
Tortured was the air, miasma mapped, Between my broken hands and the almond colored bowl she held, breathing, Stretching, retreating, and in uncertainty.
The one I’d loved, remained in realms, Once shared, and promised of only, “there,” Knowing no after, no eternity, no, “Until next time,” and so I grow weary -
If only in this feverish dream - I fear death.
Hathaway Hayes (2023)
*Meng Po is the goddess of forgetfulness in Chinese mythology, who serves Meng Po Soup on the Bridge of Forgetfulness or Naihe Bridge (Chinese: 奈何桥; pinyin: Nàihé qiáo). This soup wipes the memory of the person so they can reincarnate into the next life without the burdens of the previous life.
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