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Shhhh. No Tweeting. Rest now ©2020 annie fahy

Cause and effect invites stability.
Brain is settled with inevitability.
I do not wish for your suffering.

Still there is blood in you.
Your fluids have rendered you
as human as your maid.

Beyond semen,
(which is dwindling old man),
tears and snot and sweat flood your face.

Might they install something new in you?
Replace the mountain
of your own invincible thoughts?

Cooks are stewing chickens
from their mama’s recipe.

Twin gold ventilators
are standing by
Like proud boys next to your bed.

There is blood in you.
Perhaps the with the same virus
that was born in China.

Shhhhh. No tweeting.
rest. We will pray for your
©2020 annie fahy

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Embrace ©2020 anniefahy

Black Lives Matter
to me.
My tears are of no benefit
to the world.
My stupid white ears need to listen deeply
about pain, about which,
i almost KNOW NOTHING.

Sin is ignorance i was born into
and that i have ignored.

Anger is a momentum
for CHANGE that I can use
so that I can be different
©2020 annie fahy

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avocado© annie fahy 2020

She will only show
my painting
when it makes
stain of reality
© annie fahy 2020

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I got em
born with em
They run hot or cold.

Flow out of the eyes
adorned and constructed
calculations and proofs.

Come from what is missing;
a superpower or kryptonite.
Break the glass of them.

Use in case of police
Authority, controlling men,
overwhelm, conflict…

threads of their own power
Privilege out of a pinhole.

After they fall
reapply lipstick
flip white woman hair

Now enough about em.

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Uh-Oh Leo Life and Death ©2020 Annie Fahy

Leo wrinkles
little brow
sorta worried
even now.

Full Wolf Moon
lunar eclipse,
water breaks
baby comes quick.

Rocket labor
shoulder stuck.
Father pulls
with some luck.

Uh-Oh Leo
life and death,
father gives him
his own breath.

Mother helps
clean him out.
Love in action
there’s no doubt.

No pink baby
no big cry.
Breathe little boy
do not die.

Finally Sirens
start to wail
fast as lightning
without fail.

NICU noises
NICU lights-
Tubes and wires
hold him tight.

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In most every photo she is alone
The hover of twenty people
around her.

Waving blond
With her an American flag.
She lost the battle and the war.

Marilyn understands what men see
Sexuality personified.
We are still looking.

She is the quintessential vulnerable
but its your mother too
before she had to get married.

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Methinks that what they call my shadow here on earth is my true substance.

Methinks that in looking at things spiritual, we are too much like oysters observing the sun through the water.

Holding that it’s the distance matters more than our longing to fly.

©️2019 annie fahy

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©2019 annie fahy

If Silence is the Garden
And Language is the Snake…
Is poetry the Apple?
©2019 annie fahy

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Jesus: An eyewitness account ©2019 anniefahy

Jesus took off his sandals. He placed them next where he sat on the beach and looked to the sea, letting rocks and sand flow through his fingers and back on to beach around him. The sandals looked forlorn almost worn out and broken. His beautiful feet like sleeping doves, waited by the water’s edge. (Of course this might sound a little ridiculous even a little cliche but I have to tell it like I saw it that day.) Around him a circle of his men waited, still sitting, but alert you know. Things were always sparky with Jesus. Unpredictable.

One time at a big wedding, they ran out of wine and Jesus said: I’ll go, and he took only a boy with him, Simon’s little brother I think. They came back with two large casks of wine, none of this box shit, and also way more than he had money for, since I’m pretty sure neither of them had any gelt. It wasn’t just the amount of wine but the way it tasted that made everyone stop and really look at each other. Sweet, but not like honey or figs, more like the moment the first grapes off the vine expands in your mouth and the juice bathes your tongue and you feel, I don’t know like cleansed. You look into the eyes of someone near you and they are looking back happy and chill as if this was the only minute that mattered. That was how the wine tasted. After he poured for everyone he became the DJ and started spinning beats. The dancing was a phenom and anybody there couldn’t help but smile and laugh. …

why i write

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The Glass Train 2017 AWA Press

I am seen. What I know becomes known.
when we write the back door opens
come on in. Sit a while. Laugh
Cry unexpectedly.
Remember your grandmother.

Her favorite flower is Lilly of the valley that grow
in hundreds of straight stalked stems
under the evergreen.

When we write
I listen to the words that I choose
for their sound in my quiet mind and then out loud.
I picture how they will look on the page. (Typed)
FUCK or again in a whisper … fuuuuuuck.

there is also the story I never tell
but you know it anyway.

It’s the one where you knock
but I don’t…


annie fahy

In the Big Picture, I am a small cameo of trouble and wonder.

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