By Amy Simone Piller
I want to not writethis strange wishfor later.
I want tonot whist after lyricsunsung
I wish to be these wordslying on a pagenot this bodystrung out on conceptual drugs.
I want to come home,become the showerand all ideals of passionate love.
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By Amy Simone Piller
If one loses hope, tell me what one gains:false tranquility in early waking light?There can be no true protection from pain.
Have you ever dreamt that you held the reignspumping your heart gently, morning to night,but if you give up, there is nothing to gain.
Perhaps when quiet moments are such a strainhopelessness alleviates failure, quitetruly, is [...]
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By Amy Simone Piller
Mariachis stood stillas I slept in my mindthe subway was crowdedas we crowds blew by
Over the bridgewe go one more timenearer to workback into line.
The sun is risingI can almost see,if it weren’t for that window framebetween you and me.
I close my eyes andthe water risesmy motion picture surmountsI feel everything shakingmaybe we’re all going [...]
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By Amy Simone Piller
At best, grading is likegetting a compliment you asked for.
Mostly it is like asking for a complimentand getting stabbed repeatedly by forks, or like editing your own poemswith no penthe mistakes are permanenttomato sauce on a new dress,only space for reprimand.
I searchfor the lineto make my reflectionwhat I wish,I want to see [...]
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By Amy Simone Piller
We argue over dinner,still my mother watches as I bike down second avenue
wavering stilllike I am fiveon the first cyle.
Once homethe mirror revealswhite hairson my head.I pull them one by one.
I am too youngfor this(Hair dye was too recentlysaved up in change at the drug storeto piss you off).
I do not cry out in [...]
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By Amy Simone Piller
He tells me the mountainsare to the North,the bedroom gets Southern light,a real-estate gesture or twoand we are throughthe apartment.
“Well-lit,†I say.
“Actually, southern light is weak,â€he marks.
“Right,†I manageto stifle a giggle(In Brooklyn, North is 125th St.and South, Bay Ridge.)
He mentions something about a river,a damn?
So cavalier I should not beback upin the airI [...]
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By Amy Simone Piller
Our brain imaging todayis like Galileo’s view of the moonancient telescopesdetermining what we do.
We drive on throughforests outskirting Renodiscombobulatedno common view finder.
You say, “I just want to knowif he really loves me,â€For hours we’re replayed Each anecdotelike football play reviews.
At some pointthe call must be made
There is only one first step on the moon.
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By Amy Simone Piller
My high school boyfriend and I decided on a namefor our child to be.
It seems so naïve nowI cringe to write it down,laugh nervously.
But this was not funny to us then.It was serious.We would get married,and be together, forever.
Like most hackneyed thoughtsit too dissipatedinto other humdrumclichés of college romance. [...]
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By Amy Simone Piller
Frankie tells me“Our building is like a church—not just nobody can come in.It’s my job to protect it.I live here 50 years.There was a young couplelike you,but he was not one of us
she brought him from the streetthey fight a lot.
She come downstairs2:30 AM want to ‘use my microwave,’and I let her in,you know she’s [...]
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By Amy Simone Piller
You start to get madwhen the substitute askswhy their grammar’s so badafter you’ve listened to heryell through the wallsall day.
You start to get madwhen you’re walking homeand in store front reflectionsyou see your own furrowed browflash yourself a smileand it doesn’t go away(meta headachemaintained).
You start to get madwhen after a year and a halfthe Chinese [...]
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