inflection

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,

behold i am judge
and i am jury
from the sky
i dive
winged
with fury
in my flesh
inflections
demons buried
burrow deeper
and voices
carry
presence
whispers, ‘fear.
be wary.
soil is fresh.
you dare not
tarry.
dare not
leave this earth
unharried.
to its fate
see that it’s
ferried.’

-m.p. 01/06/2018

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komarov

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,

life is a
Russian rocket ship
crudely built
and easily lit
“how are things
inside of it”
back to control
cosmonaut spits
“i never signed up for
any of this shit”
“it’s ok, try that”
and “oh, try this!
voices safe away
give helpful hints
‘easy solutions’
uninformed dispense
suit catches flame
in convulsing fits
the distressed cosmonaut
uselessly hits
the windows, walls,
the door of the ship
screams in the
quickly ending trip
curses the voices
that calmly emit
until static announces
the end of it

-m.p. 12/31/2017

magic trick

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“watch the suit
it’s a rental”
i hear a voice
no longer mental
he’s got control
control of dentals
don’t let him get
a hold of pencils

“please don’t do this”
he mocks my thoughts
out of the lines
unconnects the dots
in my eyes
he unblinds spots
ties my psyche
up in knots

“want to see
a magic trick”
he gives his wrist
a threatening flick
“my card” he says
his lips, he licks
“for when you need
chaos for kicks”

-m.p. 11/16/2017

lower face

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under the skin
i feel the moon.
unmasked, past
the clouds,
it looms.
howls within
my ears
consume.
claws erupt
from stitches
sewn

down my spine, the
goosebumps raise
coatings of hair
the darkest grays.
and blood drips off
my lower face,
as teeth make room
for growing fangs.

the still young night
grows in my sight
my pupils fade
in glowing white.
and the fear that rose
amidst the rite
is now a rage
devoid of light.

-m.p. 11/16/17

the sifting

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The house. It whispers
throughout the night.
Some of the shadows
are enshrouded white.
They disappear when you
turn on the light,
reappear in the dark
to take a bite.

Moans in closets,
creaks in doors.
A mirrored reflection
that isn’t yours,
that crawls around
above, all fours.
A stench that rises
above the floors.

You clutch the barrel,
finger twitching.
but the apparitions
are violently shifting.
and the fog shows
no sign of lifting
so grimly reap but
the house is sifting.

-m.p. 11/03/2017

gift

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tightly wrapped
in a
cocoon
for so long
so long
it’s now a tomb
never would
have been a
butterfly
a moth
ugly
never would
have known
the gift of
flight
anyway
wings
shrunk against
my head
barely cover
my shriveled
body

-m.p. 10/22/2017

a little while

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,

words are said
it takes a little while
for my mind
to catch on
to the thought
sometimes i
latch on to
a different train
a different plot
that it’s
not

slow down i
can’t keep up
i’d lift my hands
but i smile
i get the gist and
i’ll get the rest
it’ll just take me
a little
while

-m.p. 09/07/2017