Liz Axelrod

Poems, Essays, Reviews, Stories, Moon Cycles & Goddess Worship


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New York Times! #Wedding!

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Another Year

Youth fades.
Age requires safety.

Youth skates on the highway.
No lesson required
for popping
wheelies.

Age forgets the need for speed
embraces greed
loses patience,

and adopts the right to complain
of aches and pains –
to be a patient.

Think I’ll go pop a wheelie
and a bottle of wine.

See the explosion.
Be the cause.

Mimic youth and bravery.


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Why should you want to profit from my experiences?

I tossed them in the pyre to roast and boil and I don’t need to visit that place again. The pain and blisters do no good, so why shouldn’t I just face the wall and slam my head up on it. That would be safer than reliving my life’s tribulations. Why do I write this side by side stuff anyway? To put my pain and pleasure on the page, to sway you to my politics of dancing and feeding birds who attack me for my bread? Would you like some bread? I enjoy garlic bread but then no one wants to talk to me and your black tee keeps sprouting chest hairs in my peripheral. Why do I keep powdering my look for when we meet again; clinging naked to my assumptions. And you walked right past me tonight without even saying hello. Oh wait. That was me. I left before you had the chance. I didn’t want your conversation interrupted by my presence, or my sweetness interrupted by your sour. That wall you leaned on turned to face me. I’m leaving now to move backwards, sideways, and return to this loop of never ending whatevers.

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