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Interludes by Max DeZarate

Interludes I

we ‘ve met in happy interlude:

As I traipse from one act of suffering to the next

I cling to the soft and gentle

Walk with sun

continue to eat bread

I notice something

different in you

You notice

I leave the curtain drawn—unending

I become afraid of night

So afraid I tear the moon, in all its loudness

Out of the sky

I hold tightly the false idol I’ve created:

Junk relics— made Important through possession

Kept in my own little box inside my chest

Interludes II

Ideologies of love become wounded

We lay down with the world, beside it

Listening to the whistle in the grass

Wind blowing ash and the hardness of truth

Turning our souls, turning our souls

We continue as interlude ends:

You— radiant as before

Me— learning to be held by the earth


Max DeZarate is a poet based out of Bend Oregon. His works have been previously featured in the Wingless Dreamer’s “depths” of summer”. Max’s poetry Explores the ways we are taught to love and relate and how we can push through traditional understanding to new and beautiful places.

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