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 Aug 2011 C
PK Wakefield
Untitled
 Aug 2011 C
PK Wakefield
catching yourself, did you ever catch yourself catching yourself catching
one distinct ember of an instant and let it burn so lovely into you down
into you into your very deepness welling between every sense perfectly
eternal and agonizingly brief?
 Aug 2011 C
Louis Brown
Right wingers lie and cheat

Whenever it behooves them

On WMD's or campaign myths

They seem to love to use them

Determined as old Lucifer

To spite the altruistic

They never yield to truth

Like ******'s facistic

Sad for our country

When evil so controls

It's all the wicked venom

That poisons far right souls

For civil democrats

Response is in demand

Stomp back on forked tongues

That's all they understand





Copyright Louis Brown
 Aug 2011 C
PK Wakefield
all my arms waking
(swimming 'bout
your minute sleeping)
tighten across meadows of dreaming flesh
 Aug 2011 C
PK Wakefield
SUMMER
 Aug 2011 C
PK Wakefield
SUMMER,
                   you this are effortless nonsense a girl
                   before coolness you are honey
                   sticky between familiar and new
                   your lips invite my lips
                   to kiss every sudden burning
                   spontaneous second
                                                        (some of you is days)
                                                        soft hot days
                                                        where is melting ice
                                                        in quick cups sat
                                                        on tables outside cafes
                                                        where we meet we
                                                        ourselves under your skirt
                                                        heaven waits in one crease
                                                        a flower dimpled with
                                                        giddy writhing pleasure
        and

                  some of you is nights
                  hard magic nights
                  where blood and ***
                  are a union surly
                  and quiet stifled groans
                  (so we don't wake your
                  roommates)
                                                                              and
                                                                                                     all of you is one long *****
                                                                                                     iridescent and over your sinew
                                                                                                     it sweats poems and laughter
                                                                                                     in a small meadow we found
                                                                                                     between forests in trees
                                                                                                     and we sit and we are almost
                                                                                        forever

                                    



                                         ((you are that) summer)
 Aug 2011 C
Marsha Singh
The last time I saw
you was in a parking
lot in January. You
were in town for your
father's funeral; my
oranges had tumbled out
of the cart and into
the snow and it was
really very
pretty.
 Aug 2011 C
JM Romig
coffee spitting.
clicking.
fingertips stumbling ever so awkwardly
across the keyboard.
slightly stale leftover love.
making memories
drift in from the other  room.
secondhand bassline
like an artificial pulse.
incomprehensible morning chatter
rising from the carpet
tickling the bare feet.
neutral silence
running noticeably
underneath it all.
like an omen
or a prayer.
a lost soul’s secret. desire
untold, and thus forgotten

or maybe just silence.
and nothing more
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