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Emily Harris Poem
Procrastination
time well wasted or a gift
for work compacted
Copyright © Emily Harris | Year Posted 2011
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Emily Harris Poem
October,
Time when jellyfish
Wash ashore
Cover beaches in
Rotted goo.
Count the numbers
In blue ballpoint
Mark the map
in red.
Right, left
Booted squelch
Sand and guts
Dropped the clipboard.
Running ink,
Sticky slime
Wunderbar wrapper
Clings to the page.
Telephone the department
Need another day
To get the numbers
Info lost in kidney juice.
“Got to do it now”
Before gulls,
Tide comes in, already
harmonica squawks echo.
Copyright © Emily Harris | Year Posted 2011
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Emily Harris Poem
Like all prescription Coulrophobias, CLOWNS may increase the chance of heart disease
or risk factors for it, such as high blood pressure of when clowns are seen for long
periods.
CLOWNS should not be seen right before or after certain heart surgeries.
Serious skin reactions or stomach and intestine problems such as colourful bleeding and
humorous ulcers, can occur without warning and may cause animal balloons. Elderly
patients and those taking cotton candy are at increased risk for stomach bleeding and
ulcers.
Tell your doctor if you have: a history of passing out at the circus, fleeing from mascots
or kidney and liver problems. CLOWNS should not be seen in late pregnancy.
Do not see CLOWNS if you’ve had an asthma attack, hives or other allergic reactions to
bad magic tricks or any other Coulrophobia medicine or drugs called red nose.
Life threatening allergic reactions can occur with CLOWNS. Get help right way if you’ve
had swelling of the face or trouble breathing.
Prescription CLOWNS should be seen exactly as prescribed at the lowest dose possible
and for the shortest time needed.
Copyright © Emily Harris | Year Posted 2011
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Emily Harris Poem
you perfect
hate creators
all the world’s
resentment painted
on your face
sour makeup
hot to touch
stream tears
ruining this beautiful
facade
Copyright © Emily Harris | Year Posted 2011
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Emily Harris Poem
sleeplessness appears
to increase stress
short-term, chronic
inflame the worsening
overstimulation in mindfulness
or
laughter
the emotional factor
wound healing
optimists
selves as our
physical
bodies rigorous in trial
contrast principles but seeking
circulation
impairs the wise choice
Copyright © Emily Harris | Year Posted 2011
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Emily Harris Poem
liquid has swift wings
when the fuel is sweet
and glasses half-full
consistent
light dims as a sigh
for the shadow's walk,
reflecting inward glow
elation of the stranger's eye
flint strike spark
dry timber, helpless
ignition
fast flame, burn
smokeless ember drenched
favored hands flicker
glide and clench,
sticky sweet and ashen
blisters form unnoticed
in confused heat, diminished
sunblast shatter
curtain call,
morning mist remembrance
soldered faces of the dancers
burnt with dreamstate's grin.
Copyright © Emily Harris | Year Posted 2011
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Emily Harris Poem
horrific, decades-long
study syphilis, study its effects
covert medical testing
army scientist
bitten by mosquitoes,
yellow fever
mustard gas,
enter chambers
temporarily blind
dark age
hospital patients
injected with plutonium,
atomic soldiers
in the waves
of nuclear explosions
trace amounts of radiation,
in breakfast cereal
of handicapped children
new drug, LSD
dropped over a French town,
unsuspected, hallucinations
with the latest discovery,
reports of dark practices
soon to follow.
Copyright © Emily Harris | Year Posted 2011
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Emily Harris Poem
spineless uniform
tapered, buttoned, pressed
exaggerate long lines
colour pops, the eye
is drawn
attention call out
redirect, speaks
whisper or yell
constantly consistently
focus shift distract
detracted attraction
stitch, wash, cut
dye the parts
rip, reassemble
connect to conquer
Copyright © Emily Harris | Year Posted 2011
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Emily Harris Poem
self-esteem evaporates,
sometimes sublimates
hot fog condense
that stings the eyes
possibilities proliferate
in headlines of exoplanets
with stuck tight star orbits
so close that iron shifts
atmosphere bound
no joke when nothing’s
solid, rock or otherwise
and tiny light points
laugh lines across
your face at night.
Copyright © Emily Harris | Year Posted 2011
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Emily Harris Poem
in a rut
no, a trench.
pulled under like Ypres or Verdun
walls held up by bodies of dearly departed.
we gather here today because we have to.
so chew the dirt from fingernails,
swim this mud sea.
six feet.
draped flags,
bedsheets, tablecloth rags
set the places.
mines flower on this grave.
Copyright © Emily Harris | Year Posted 2011
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