ryan blood

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each summer the last summer
the only remembered summer

'this is the difference between us'
she says, putting her hands
over mine
to trap them there

he was on the verge of the atlantic
where the coast is lined with small
hotels and families on vacation

i listen from the inside
at you knocking at the door
like the voyeurs once present
outside the windows

there is daylight
on the water
there are remnants here
of gods

i watched the balloon as
it made its skyward ascent
not knowing how far it would go
how high

you no longer tell me your dreams
you, who for so long,
came to me willing
and divulged to my open ears

what did i have then?
what did i want
or need
that i can't have now

we are older now
than we've ever been
five minutes older
than five minutes ago

it's just like
starting over
it's not

i was something
with you
angry and somuchworse


drifting through
dream orchards from which
red apples are stolen
juice streaming down my chin

Your neighbor (the man
with the cane of oak
or yew) may have loved
once -


Poems you dreamed
as the Moon rose
your Mother held you
sweet red lips pressed

let me compose myself
like a symphony
note tumbling upon note until
they are chasing each other

brother, your darkness
closes over me like an eyelid
and I am invited into
the hole your absence


hoarding your sadness -
a dragon keeping his gold
to himself

i have written nothing else
the book of my life
lies empty; waits
to be filled, i dream

this morning
i confessed my insecurities
and you listened
you who i did not know was listening

you should see the moon
It sits, a smile, perched
among stars and

ryan blood Biography

a girl with an old soul and a boy's name.)

The Best Poem Of ryan blood


each summer the last summer
the only remembered summer
in retrospect
the one so eagerly
& then so uneventful
like a puritan striptease,
a withered erection,
the kentucky derby:
Each summer the summer
most sacred
Each summer the summer
it did not rain so
much the summer before
because Then is turning
to accommodate Now
with small movements like
the fluttering of birds' wings
& every night the world
the way scientists warned us it would;
what is it about
that is so evanescent?
each summer
the last summer.

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