a whole bunch

by amy

Surviving Creation

In three hundred years the earth moved one inch
Toward bigger and better
Books for its history, after

Twilights it spent on
Teenagers in cars and
Fathers with babies
And dictionaries with pictures

The map is a plot of the soul of one body
Spread too thin for the world
And others were born to keep company


Family Reunion

In an attic above an old woman sleeping
Gnarled bedclothes and a mind like an island
I spread out dust over cracking fires
Burning up trails, centuries unnoted

My family’s secrets, all of their forearms
They’d stared at in chains through rust-rimmed glasses
Dove into me desperate, filling my lungs
With their longings and days
They’d lost to their portraits

I rid myself of their shrill and sick reaching
By ripping up floorboards and smearing off ceilings
Their bodies left my head when I found the secret
The paper, pen, sign; you will be free


After Excommunication, I Will Pray

There’s no beauty in voices tired of preaching
The truth and the word of the savior we missed
If they’re looking for life
And to save all our souls
They should go out and meet
The women who rob men of their sex
To fill themselves with reverberations
Of somebody else’s half-life they hold onto
By forgetting wife’s faces and offering cash

Where is your master, your doorman, your lord
He lets anyone in with the right set of keys
I’m not a cynic
I’ve known nothing
Except for the light asking me
Where to go


At Dinner Parties

When I was a child I thought I’d be taller
And own real beauty along with a car
Have a much larger chest than what I’ve sunken into
And smaller confusions, and pink-faced tears

I got what I saved for when parent’s friends said
She is so old for her age, and I smiled
Then I sipped wine how a foal learns to walk


Thank You For Saving Me

The truck inched through gravel and I caught sight
Of the green and the white
The windows and fields
Reaching and freedom

I was a mistress
The city still waiting, my past and future
The country my hero and ticket
For more width of the heart
And substance to my lungs

I woke up to a quilt pressed into my legs
Keeping me inside arms
Of the outdoors, the warm kitchen
Everything that was intended to be
Was presented to me in softness
In the bathroom in moonlight
My eyes met my life

The Smell of Magnolias at Dawn

by Surreal as Sunlight

His own eyes stared at him in the face
They poked at his stature, strength and grace

He told the mirror plainly,
This is as beautiful as I get.

His shoelace kissed the ground as he dragged his feet
The eyes of magnolia flowers stared at his cheeks

He whispered to the petals,
This is as beautiful as I get.

And so his legged worked like robots of steel,
he clanked and clattered around the town and fields

Twilight came and the moon did rise
He sat and stared at the stars with his eyes

And he shouted to them,
This is as beautiful as I get

And he fell asleep on a bed of mud
And woke up, his eyes crusty with crud

He wandered to the river where he washed up
He stared at his reflection and a tear fell down

It shattered his reflection into a millon little circles

He whimpered to the pieces,
This is as beautiful as I get

There is no way to say it

by Surreal as Sunlight

I never drove with so much compassion

We tripped through the familar suburban streets
Your patient ears sat quietly in the passenger seat
While I uncovered what you've missed in the past weeks

We slid through the intersection slowly
Time stood still
As the ignorant driver
oncoming traffic
he could have taken my life

You screamed
I didn't do anything
He would have turned right into me
He could have crushed me from the left

Then it all would have been over
What would be left?

And how would you have felt
A boy who once loved you
A man who you never knew
His life ended so true

Tears did graze your cheeks
But I couldn't wipe them down
I drove with so much compassion
I wouldn't want to let you down

But I did wonder why they fell
Was it the death of me
I guess it could have been anything
That you didn't want to leave behind

We took in that car with us
Only what we had
Ourselves
Our histories
We can't really take anything with us

So what is there to cry about?

There is so much.

Wrinkly

line dry only

the wrinkly old men
wear depends to bed

and sneeze into tinged-yellow
white handkerchiefs

I'd love to know what
surmises their past's surprises

as they lay in bed dreaming of
girls and the '50's

I try to remember the old men
I have never met

and not one of them told me
"I wish I were pretty"

so let them be wrinkly
because prunes taste just as good

cherry stripes

line dry only

forget me, forget me
forget me
forgot me
maybe I will forget you

detesting the ends of the rope I've climbed
is far from the happy endings I dreamed

and you don't care
where are the tree's songs now?
living my days without end
never seemed so long
and the purpose has grown colder
without you in it

material possessions
confessions in bed and on paper
with pens running out
and doodles on my windows
scaring birds and streaking signs

the summer will tell, when i
run
away

escape




exactly


escape

caffeine-free relationships

line dry only

I've been stolen
deserved credit
for the part I
played
in our
comedicly romantic
tragedy
with satirical cousins
ironic fathers
and natural grassroots

you've thrown me away
a used napkin
soiled and cheap
trying to be pretty
one use only
can't be washed

look at all the
soapy dishwater
I've soaked out
of you

april works.

michaelthomasswanberg

I once knew a boy
that always found his way to train tracks
& no matter where he walked
they unfolded in front of him

he still comes to my door some nights,
knocks twice so I know hes living
but the girl im seeing doesn’t like it
so he and i talk & stay quiet
& then quietly he goes back towards dawn
his feet clean metal and clank
his breath like smoke or prayer

I asked him once how the both can leave his lungs
even though they never enter
He kissed my mouth as though that were an answer
then walked off towards the next rusted spike

-----------------------------------------------

I was once red clay,
but you already know this
the natives mixed me with water
to rub on the foreheads of their children

But now I am the granite
Of your shoes
The arch and crack
Of every step

So I know where you are going
& I want to say go back
Back into those trees like storm clouds
Back into a pool of me, and you
And friends we forgot to forget

And I will be that clay again
You can leave me in the sun this time
I will bake and I will brick
i was chip and I will last
------------------------

my voice
Is someplace between my shoelaces
And your bedroom

There are wires between us
Spark and grit
There are oceans between us
There are tides

If I time it right I might find
What I am looking for
at the moment of climax
But I rush and waste

And we both kiss either way
Which does nothing for me
I am spoiled and you are spoiled
And if pressed to find
We wouldn’t even know the difference
---

I was nine years old when she
stuck that perfect landing on the mat.
My family and I on the edge of our seats,
watching America ride the back
of some girl from Tucson, Arizona.

And we didn’t scream or clap
when her score flashed.
We crippled to the mat with her,
we collapsed and were lifted
in her coaches heavy arms.

I was nine years old and I still thought
That I too could spin and flip
Rush the breathe out of strangers
Blow kisses from crutches

But I never learned vault
And I never chalked these hands
And she only taught me how to fall
But no heavy arms were there

Green Blades

line dry only

I've been listening to a lot of you
and I've come to the decision that the only way to fight
is to live

the quiet girl I know told me
it's the best revenge

but I want the revenge to be soft and sweet
with good feelings and new days

the white clouds cover
but the blue sky stands out

spring mocked me, then
and now it smiles when i try

I Hope One Day Your Shadow is Taller Than Mine (but until then)

by Surreal as Sunlight

He held my hand
The sun shone brightly
As he stared at our shadows
That crawled along the woodchips

“Who’s shadow is bigger?” I asked him.
“Yours,” he replied, his finger waving in the air, tracing the outline of my shadow.

It was almost noon, when we would stand our tallest.

Suddenly he left the loose clasp he had on my hand, and began to yell “Yay!” as he stumbled in circles around the playground.

I was left alone with my shadow. A dark replication of my every action.

But even without the sun and the woodchips, I had a shadow. He followed me and admired my every action.

I first thought it was simply because of my stature in comparison to his own.

Until he cried and didn’t want to be my friend anymore.

How could I have ever told him that I was paid to be his friend.
That I did not choose him.
He was chosen for me.

Through the days
We played house
Sometimes I was the elephant
And you were the mouse

I’ve never met his father figure
And I don’t know if he exists
Sometimes I wonder if
I’m the only man that gives him
Any attention

His mother thanks me so much
How can I tell her its just what
I’m paid to do
How can I tell her I don’t deserve the money
Because I’m just playing with my own shadow.

And soon he’ll be going back home
For an extended vacation
I won’t be of need anymore
But my friend, I will miss you

Because I shouldn’t be paid for this
I am just playing with my shadow.

Connect the Dots (a poem for best friends)

by S.a.S.

If you were to see us from space
We would have been a constellation
Shining from the concrete
Each of us
With a luminous grow
Underneath us
We lay
Illuminated
And silhouetted
We have the history
Of stars in the sky
I don’t remember knowing anything else
Before I knew you
And I don’t remember
How my motion would have motion
If you hadn’t crossed my ocean
And sometimes you were the sharks
And we were the minnows
We were always ready to catch each other
When you were ready to fall
When I was ready to crawl
And now we lay
On these cold metal grates
Blocking illumination of such a beautiful thing
We may fall in and out of discord
But in our current state
We connect the dots
Like our own constellation
There is not a thing
That I would not tell you
I have uncovered to you
All your misconceptions
Honesty can pull us together
Like gravity to earth
And we little dots
Connect.

some poems

by Amy

The most

The most beauty I ever saw
Was when I knelt outside of your window
And breathed into where you wanted so badly
To escape from

And then I reached without looking or asking
Into your room
I laid down next to you in your bed
And told you a fairytale I know used to be true
When I only worried about weather
And the sun was my mother

But now, son and daughter
I’m young and unborn
So I keep you above the shelf in the kitchen
With the calendar and clock
So when we meet, not in heaven
But on earth
I’ll do my best
To make it the most beautiful
Time of day for all of us
Happy birthday, mother
Happy birthday, father
Our family has sprung from a seed in the yard


What Joy

I can’t tell you without whispering into your lungs
How I feel about the earth
I’ll sing past what makes
Your insides all run
I’ll tell you the truth

Winds blow when there’s doubt
From all continents and women
We have burned until barren
Like a trap set for ghosts

And ugliness sleeps in a boat in the ocean
Lighthouses welcome company, more lonely than scared
Like a man I grew up with
Too ruined to come clean

The most beautiful child
I’ve seen in a while
Looks like me
So I know there’s still joy
Somewhere

when i say nothing, i mean this

turtledove


in the dark
we fill eachother in
as i trace your jaw
you color my lines

we fill eachother in
about the year we spent apart
the things i failed at
the records you broke

i mentioned the women
you wrote them off
i remember how i felt when you looked at her
the way you used to look at me

and i miss you
the way my tears missed the ducts
when they hit your pillow
i held you closer
and you couldn't see

leveled

turtledove.

when they closed the bank accounts
i walked naked to class every morning after
it felt as real as the blood
that seeps into my mattress at night.

Death Match

by S.a.S.

Death’s leathery palms
Are sliding down your back
He’s just teasing
Giving you a taste of what’s to come

He can’t wait to
Fuck you over
To show you
Who always wins in the end

And for every argument you thought you could win
This is what he wants to do
To show you who’s boss
To fuck you over

He runs the backside of his hand
Run down your cheeks
Feel his jagged fingernails
As they scrape the bags under your eyes

And you never thought He existed
Because you were never proved wrong
Just because you didn’t trust God
Didn’t mean he didn’t have something grand in plan for you

And He thinks love is bullshit
It’s just something that the faithless made up
So they could have something to live for
Besides Him

So they could stay faithless
So they could stay unfaithful
Whatever the eyes desire
That is what they shall have

And now, Death is here
And you are naked
Who do you pray to?
Him, of course.

Little do you know, He’s on tag team with Death
They never work at the same time
But now, they both get to fuck
You
Over.

when we speak in the morning

by amy

if i wrote you all the most beautiful words in the world
and gave you everything
i hid from myself in my toychest
when i was young
when i was an angel
for fear that i'd break them or even worse mend them
renewing their lives when they'd wanted rest
you'd still find fault in my breaths
not being all for you
not keeping me alive

That's Not You in the Mirror

by S.a.Sunlight

When his eyelids fall at the days end
Like the curtain at a plays end
That is when his show begins
A sight of suicide to mend

Barely on the seat
that's marked for him
A scar-ridden freak
He tries not to peak

But its like a mirror
which one is insane
the image or the reflection
the hail or the rain

The hail falls
when he pounds the mirror
the sound of thunder as his hand makes contact

The cracks and the slaps
as the refractions of him
skid the floor

The rain falls
a deep red
as the pieces of his
narcisissim
release the fluids within

He stops the storm
He's stopped the bloody weather

Just as the weatherman predicted
Sunshine breaks through the clouds

but he's kept his lips stitched for so long
that the sun is merely an illusion
the clouds, the trees, the flowers
none of it was real to begin with

for fear that they may lock him away
lock you in place
a constant state of nothing
like a picture worth so many words
but worth nothing at all

You have entered the world of blackened dreams
Where white light does not exist
and there is no return

Never more than an illusion