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Plethora

Aspiring to be someone’s boyfriend,
And I want to fly to the moon:
Neither has the ghost of any chance
Of occurring anytime soon.
Aspirations of someone now older
Are akin to those of a teen:
Both want to be and make someone happy,
The longing is still felt quite keen.
Do you want to take on a boyfriend
And fly to find the man in the moon?
Call or comment when you are able—
Yes, right now wouldn’t be too soon.
Together we’ll share a plethora of smiles
While counting the days and accruing the miles.

LIVE, at Tipitina’s

Why can’t I write like a sunny day?
Like a frosty day when the setting sun cries alone
Missing his Moon just over the horizon
But I do having something to say
I just can’t get it out just like Taylor does
And I found not every why has a because
And alone I bend over this laptop
Singing along with a 4 moptop
Band from Liverpoolland
I wanna radiate but I’m 500 miles apart
Why do I always sublet my own life’s part?

Unpoetic Junctions, Unrequited Love

Unpoetic junctions, unrequited love
Broken clouds cascading past a thumbnail moon above
Insufficient walnuts lurking in a blueberry pie
Never a satisfactory answer for the ignorant Ferguson why
Blasted half-truths triggering sniggering comments from the crew
The panda ponders at the bamboo and I wonder why you won’t let me be in love with you
Emerald-eyed pan wrens perched on Grandma’s storm fence
More burials for the Middle East and Peace is strictly future tense
The moral of this off-story is there’s so much we cannot know
Without admitting tartly there’s more than a little bit farther we all have to go
Together
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In this photo shot by freelance photographer Johnny Nguyen, Sgt. Bret Barnum (left) hugs 12-year-old Devonte Hart during the Ferguson rally in Portland on Nov. 25, 2014. (Johnny Nguyen/Special to The Oregonian)