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passion, let them rest, but keep them out of my dreams. the end of the world approaching, I remember that when I’m lonely in a universal fashion and haven’t yet untied my shoes, sleep is usually what’s required and missing everything that has ever happened is forgotten and will return as a stone in a dream. you can love a stone, but it will break your back if you try carrying it, and shatter your teeth if you try to eat it. if you leave it outside the house, it will garnish your life. moonrise pours over my limbs, my eyes close with the gratitude of not having to breath all the visitations never happened when we’re all the same person in the same sleep. exhale, my tradition ends with me.</p><p id="0ebf"><i>©<a href="https://readmedium.com/3323d19b5781">Daniel</a></i>, 2024</p><p id="3473">Check out my poetry book “Facial Features” here:</p><div id="f5b8" class="link-block"> <a href="https://www.lulu.com/shop/daniel-barry/facial-features/paperback/product-empvrw.html?source=post_page-----e61e8d0ed9bb--------------------------------&amp;page=1&amp;pageSize=4">

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            <h2>Facial Features</h2>
            <div><h3>Our faces are history books, roadmaps, and dictionaries. Find a friend or a family member, consult a mirror and gaze…</h3></div>
            <div><p>www.lulu.com</p></div>
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    </div><p id="d1b2">Another poem by Daniel:</p><div id="0117" class="link-block">
      <a href="https://readmedium.com/across-the-border-e61e8d0ed9bb">
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            <h2>Across The Border</h2>
            <div><h3>My first visit</h3></div>
            <div><p>medium.com</p></div>
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POETRY OF MEDIUM

light spills through no matter whose bed you choose

Photo by Ephraim Mayrena on Unsplash

my tradition starts in the backyard, reaching for braided grass, blinking through the last flight logs of the evening and my tradition is sleep falls cool and blessed I fold myself into the letter “S” not having to be next to someone in the night I don’t have to be anyone when I’m asleep, when the stars can’t burn my face, and my phone is helpless once and for all. the last sixteen hours were full of angry and adorable mirages that I tinkered with until I fell face first in the sand the statue of the Virgin that shattered like thunder, our angry confrontation in the shower, mirage. those who were lackluster in compassion, let them rest, but keep them out of my dreams. the end of the world approaching, I remember that when I’m lonely in a universal fashion and haven’t yet untied my shoes, sleep is usually what’s required and missing everything that has ever happened is forgotten and will return as a stone in a dream. you can love a stone, but it will break your back if you try carrying it, and shatter your teeth if you try to eat it. if you leave it outside the house, it will garnish your life. moonrise pours over my limbs, my eyes close with the gratitude of not having to breath all the visitations never happened when we’re all the same person in the same sleep. exhale, my tradition ends with me.

©Daniel, 2024

Check out my poetry book “Facial Features” here:

Another poem by Daniel:

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