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Close your eyes.
Ten, nine, eight.
Imagine the great blue new,
the you of tomorrow.
Seven, six,
for five you are alive and taking up
the spaces between seconds.
Four, three,
two hands like the clasp of a door,
pull out your hope and let it be more
than just this feathered
one.

am kennedy, “New Year”

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Joy came back
dirty,
I had to dig her
from the earth,
wash her in ocean,
& forgive her
for leaving me
when I was
too cruel
to touch.

am kennedy, “after we strayed”

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I want to give you joy,
like a bottle rocket in June,
a bright clash of sound and light
in the otherwise heavy night.
If this is all there is,
let it be like carbonation and exultation,
a stage dressed like spring bloom
where we dance until we grow sore
and then we dance some more.
If I can press this time into a box,
let it be still just long enough for a
Polaroid, a memory, a painting across
the nape of your neck.
Let us all go to sleep
like we love the dirt,
like we are worn for rest,
like we are ready to finally be inert.
Let me give you romance
on whatever timeline is left,
it doesn’t have to be much,
love, if anything,
is from which creativity comes.
And in this there are the stars,
the start and end of all the summers
you ever dreamt of,
all the smiles you ever meant of,
the whole impossible stretch
of meaning compressed inside
a minute or two.
And if you’ll take them,
a few seconds more.

am kennedy, “A love song to the beating heart” (via siilentiary)

Format Quote

I want to give you joy,
like a bottle rocket in June,
a bright clash of sound and light
in the otherwise heavy night.
If this is all there is,
let it be like carbonation and exultation,
a stage dressed like spring bloom
where we dance until we grow sore
and then we dance some more.
If I can press this time into a box,
let it be still just long enough for a
Polaroid, a memory, a painting across
the nape of your neck.
Let us all go to sleep
like we love the dirt,
like we are worn for rest,
like we are ready to finally be inert.
Let me give you romance
on whatever timeline is left,
it doesn’t have to be much,
love, if anything,
is from which creativity comes.
And in this there are the stars,
the start and end of all the summers
you ever dreamt of,
all the smiles you ever meant of,
the whole impossible stretch
of meaning compressed inside
a minute or two.
And if you’ll take them,
a few seconds more.

am kennedy, “A love song to the beating heart”