m.s.early : Writing

my binds are cuffed to this red clay mud

my binds are cuffed to this red clay mud

A Poem by m.s.early


my binds are cuffed to this red clay mud Queen Anne's lace rising and bending from the wind in the west leaning towards the Atlantic the sun is ..
my thoughts are wandering mostly

my thoughts are wandering mostly

A Poem by m.s.early


my thoughts are wandering mostly where your curves are soft, lending me to crave; lying to me on a deceiver's tongue, revealing a dream that is onl..
victor talking machine

victor talking machine

A Poem by m.s.early


victor talking machine msearly 2018/09/08 i used to listen to your songs crossed legged in your living room floor while the sunshine beamed throu..
reach for you and find you there

reach for you and find you there

A Poem by m.s.early


I crept outside like a vandal A Peeping Tom on the outside looking in Feeling like a lover undiscovered Like a dream that’s never been I l..
Untitled

Untitled

A Poem by m.s.early


They write songs for the dead Sitting on the stones and sand While the smoke from the car bomb Is still warm, A dark frown In an otherwise peace..
i saw a barren world on the stones of Afghanistan

i saw a barren world on the stones of Afghanistan

A Poem by m.s.early


i saw a barren world on the stones of Afghanistan, the sand capped mountains rose without life, without breath but not gasping, nor dying, nor al..
he closes his eyes when he sings

he closes his eyes when he sings

A Poem by m.s.early


he closes his eyes when he sings because he becomes his own ghost and the world separates into a life on the other side of every window i know ..
speak to me in music

speak to me in music

A Poem by m.s.early


i imagined her voice falling like the whole world upon me and bursting into a thousand pieces. she wrote to me, “speak to me in music”..
spring moss

spring moss

A Poem by m.s.early


the trees are empty. the woods are quiet. the ribbon of creek running towards the highway only speaks when i hold my breath. the moss snuggles t..
pansies at night

pansies at night

A Poem by m.s.early


the crashing waves were not muffled by the morning fog seeping into my fabric like your kiss that never met anything but a thought of mine an un..

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