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Spaghetti knots

don’t come here

come see my house

come see my house where the floor creaks

come see my creaky house with its spring flowers

come see my sweet, flowering house creaking with a summer that my mom says might never end

come see my summered, bright house that is smothered by the end of a creek where my dad would sometimes go

come see my wet, going house that would father me when hand in hand i was taken to the waters where the floor makes no sound

come see my house screaming cracking kicking

come see my house with those flowers towering above

come see my house where that summer slips into a shadow

come see my house with my eyes closed

come see my house when he comes

come see my house that is no longer mine


above is from a book of poetry i’ve written, entitled “a mess of you everywhere inside of me“.

it is for you. it is about you. it will tell you how to be you again. get a copy here:

About kacperniburski

I am searching for something in between the letters. Follow my wordpress or my IG (@_kenkan)


One thought on “don’t come here

  1. I think I know the waters where the floor makes no sound. Delighted to meet your eloquent poems. Thanks for accessing my blog. A salute from Scotland.

    Posted by emmock | October 20, 2018, 2:43 am

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