• Vol. 08
  • Chapter 11
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Curvilinear

Curvilinear
Seashell dreams -
Infinite,
Yet bounded by curved lines
That, like the dreams themselves,
Are destined to be broken -
Of days when
The enticing scent of citrus
Did not give me migraines,
Rich black clay loam
Squelching under
Bare post-rain feet
As puddles splashed
Curvilinear water droplets
Up my once bare and free legs

Curvilinear
Destinies and fates,
Fates and destinies,
Foretold and ignored,
So still they remain
Surprising all the while;
New pedestals atop which
We unknowingly clamor,
Only to find ourselves
Afraid of falling down,
Unable to ride

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Curvilinear

The curving airport escalator
Going straight to hell
The curvilinear motion of its trajectory
Nauseating and unnerving

Curvilinear
Nightmares of reality
Dreamed while wide awake
The terrifying existence,
The horrible actuality
Of suburbia,
Of SUVs,
Of a husband,
And of 2.5 kids
With which so many people
Are utterly stuck,
Inescapably doomed
To straight lines and boredom,
Despite the curvilinear nature
Of the universe

Curvilinear
Busyness and contentment,
Having chosen poverty,
Freedom, and adventure
Over security, misery, and acceptance,
Over the mundane -
No suburban tribulations
And just the occasional orange,

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Curvilinear

Painful though they are,
In a society made
For straight lines that are
So damned unnatural
In a cosmos
So very curvilinear

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