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poetry

Lay down your arms

No more odes to a rusted pedestal
No more games for a weary gladiator
Here, I make my stand
Here, I drop the pretense and the armor
Put down the shield and the sword
Relinquish the pen and the paper

“We are not perfect, no
We are fallen.
From and of the dust
And given only a short time before we return.
Take my hand
Let us try to love one another
Let us try to be kind
Let us try.”

I am waiting
And you, you are–

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About Quinn

In it but not of it. A reformed player, now watcher. Speaker of raw truths.

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Raison d’etre

"Raw," she said. "I want something primal. I want something bare and naked. I want you to give me this life raw, unbidden, unhidden, free, fair, and true. Can you do that? Can you do that for me?"

One may only try.

January 2014
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