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Teasing flame to glass, spinning the stem between dirty tips of fingers. Selfish again, to those with expectations. Barely above the skin, as cold bones etch their structure through the surface. Alone in preference. Exhausted by stepping on hearts stepping through hearts. Yesterday, I saw my reflection in a glass bowl, the distortion studied me. Today, I saw a reflection in the mirror, a figure with hollow eyes. Who is this? Fear briefly appeared. Without permission, the wind bullied its way through a crack in the window. The intrusion carelessly blew a post-it note to the floor. Have a nice day! A sweet yet bitter reminder of someone I once cared about. I let it where it settled, understanding it would be too heavy to lift. A photo of my father and I posing with a couple Chinook salmon, remained magneted to the face of the refrigerator.  My eyes burned in sadness in shame. The pain was aggressive. I did not want to e attached to any of it. I retreated to a
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A girl brought me kiwi and a T shirt from Hawaii My first taste          I liked it. At the park we kissed and other things               My first taste             I liked it. I lost the T shirt and  the girl            I did not look hard for either. I wish I knew where they both were now                                I miss it.             Tristan  Fall 2019

A Little Trouble Letting Go

Early my eyes to a day just fawning where the tide has encroached high and the fogs hang low. Where the cries of gulls intrude upon the gentle bellow of the sea and a suggestion of salt last on my tongue. ---- a swollen sadness is here as well --- I am numb in thought to what has been lost.  Now that spring has come, do the tender sprouts of my conscience show? ---I feel a bit empty ---- Attempting to gather myself, I scouted the shorelines once pathed in perfect spring.  Foolishly I looked to see if they were still there, foolishly. ---Am I tormenting myself? Her words were well liter formidable opponent to any resistance I may have had; I had none. She blew into me like a summer breeze, like she was summer tea, sweet and effortless.  She left even easier. ---lies burn seconds into the truth. Her heart was as big as a castle and twice as empty.  I misjudged her luxuries, thinking they would be enough to sustain happiness. ---Deceived by false-hearted seduction.

The River Spirit

You can't catch a fish with your back to the river, so we face our challenges and obstacles head on. it is at this moment where a kindred spirit is born, a spirit between mankind and the Chinook salmon. All existence gather here, beginning our Journey in the river of life. The Journey is not easy and is full of snags and boulders. Sometimes the way is so treacherous, fear overwhelms our navigation. We, like the Chinook salmon, rely upon our spirit, a spirit always pushing, always driving, achieving our pursuits and never giving up. When we arrive at our Final destination,  We shudder in our last breath But there is life in death. Some say we give all in our passing, but a spirit is carried with us and is only shared, and is continuous in its giving. Where we began, we will end. We will not stop giving, and the River Spirit will always be giving, too.


Where will you place it this time There isn't much space on my skin that hasn't been marked by your fury Eve less room remains on my heart for another scar Your eyes are wild with hate Unprovoked anger spins from your tongue My eyes are blank and tearless They've run themselves dry I feel unworthy so I stay Expecting, accepting another blow Your soul is black For some unknown reason Something has hurt you So hurt me Hurt hung onto too long manifests itself into anger You try to transfer it to me but it still resides in you So where will you place it this time When my skin has turned to ash....               ---Tristan, Summer, 2017

Under My Tears

Under my tears I lay in wait again To be torn apart From illusionary friends. The heaviness of this Has dropped me on scuffed knees The rawness burns. I'd lift my head to see a way But the blows have left me shrinking. The pain drips constantly But not enough to drown Just enough to push the salt deeper. Under my tears I want to scream to extinguish the noises Why so many unfamiliar voices. Oh the sea of torment Is on me now Pulling me further from tranquility. Servility has manacled my ankles No utterance away from this absolution Close my breath Then close my eyes.                --Tristan, February, 2013