Author Archives: Lisa Rosier
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The morning I think of giving up
Shades of moss green and orchid peaceably pull me back
As an elder, in Auto-Tune
Promising a child that dancing days lie ahead
An altogether different morning, now
That deserves
I deserve
A wholly-new and holy mind
Crazymaker
Never allowed to know you
To say, “welcome,” or, “nice to meet you”
Always an outcast, a fraud, an impostor
It was you who stole my hat
It was you who called me yellow
All Gone: A Haiku
Faceless interface
Perpetuates nothingness
Robs us of our souls
Cover Me

Uninsulated
Thank you for this window now,
Of thin and vintage time.
The safehouse to set a spell,
The anchored birch, my lean-to.
That I’d be reminded
In these gusty days
There is still
The reaching skyward
And strength to see it.
Wild Erased
Just settle down
Tell it to your manic
Who used to threaten the world
If it harmed a hair on my head?
Just go gently
Take your wild, man
Ever contemplate the green
Would snuff it out for settled-down love?
Abstraction
I could’ve died, the graffiti from your mouth
Concrete memorials given under cover of night
The kind devoid of color
Sharp, dark, angry, and angular
Where, the morning after, the smart people come in, clean up, and move on as though it never happened
It should’ve never happened
Your Number: A Haiku
On the bluff I stayed
To count the numbered blackbirds
That I knew called you
Lipgloss & Love
Hey, how’s it they do it?
These women, these friends
Surely they’ve some frayed ends?
Lipgloss and love
Their superpower for sure
And they awe me
The really Something they give
At all costs
As Ginger, in heels and backwards
Going forward in grace
All day and always
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