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 Nov 2012 HEK
Olympia
Untitled I
 Nov 2012 HEK
Olympia
And in the whitest dark I
Ask for only that
To keep
Me there, for just the span of
Your snowglobe smile
That aftershock nightlight in the
Afternoon heat
Wait for me there
With your bayonet heart
Hands
Shoulders
Beneath the powerline
Wire, asleep but for me
Awake but for
The rest
And doze after
Half-light dreams and
Headrush spotlights that
Blur and
Mar my
Little love frame
Bright night air, fill
Every niche
Till whole is all
And all is this
 Nov 2012 HEK
Gabrielle F
Late.
 Nov 2012 HEK
Gabrielle F
the cold and the snow
hang above in giant monochrome lungs
that sag and are filled with fluid halfway
to crystal: clouds that devour themselves
and spit themselves back out
quietly above us.

we wait for the grand purge.
the throwdown of winter's hands.
the release of copious white.
the gentle unfold of sloping blankets
and ice expanding in every concrete vein.

we wait for the wind that has teeth in it's mouth and
a *******. a wind that grew fierce rolling fitfully across
aching prairie miles.

it is nearly december and every day we
wonder about the impending deep freeze.
we consider (eyes cast warily upward)
the fist of mid-January noon,
the subtle split of lips and chapped hands,
boots gnawed by salt spilled raw on the streets,
necks and legs
and fingers and feet
put away until spring-
swaddled in flannel wool goosedown cotton tightly wound
until all curvature is lost.

how we will shuffle penny-eyed between pockets of
warmth, curled into ourselves
in protection of our hearts that rattle sweetly beneath
every binding layer,

buried in a six month breadth
of silence.
 Nov 2012 HEK
Allen Ginsberg
Howl
 Nov 2012 HEK
Allen Ginsberg
For
              Carl Solomon

                   I

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by
      madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the ***** streets at dawn
      looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly
      connection to the starry dynamo in the machin-
      ery of night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat
      up smoking in the supernatural darkness of
      cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities
      contemplating jazz,
who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and
      saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tene-
      ment roofs illuminated,
who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes
      hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy
      among the scholars of war,
who were expelled from the academies for crazy &
      publishing obscene odes on the windows of the
      skull,
who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burn-
      ing their money in wastebaskets and listening
      to the Terror through the wall,
who got busted in their ***** beards returning through
      Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,
who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in
      Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their
      torsos night after night
with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, al-
      cohol and **** and endless *****,
incomparable blind; streets of shuddering cloud and
      lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of
      Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the mo-
      tionless world of Time between,
Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery
      dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops,
      storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon
      blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree
      vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brook-
      lyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,
who chained themselves to subways for the endless
      ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine
      until the noise of wheels and children brought
      them down shuddering mouth-wracked and
      battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance
      in the drear light of Zoo,
who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's
      floated out and sat through the stale beer after
      noon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack
      of doom on the hydrogen jukebox,
who talked continuously seventy hours from park to
      pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brook-
      lyn Bridge,
lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping
      down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills
      off Empire State out of the moon,
yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts
      and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks
      and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars,
whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days
      and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the
      Synagogue cast on the pavement,
who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a
      trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic
      City Hall,
suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grind-
      ings and migraines of China under junk-with-
      drawal in Newark's bleak furnished room,
who wandered around and around at midnight in the
      railroad yard wondering where to go, and went,
      leaving no broken hearts,
who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing
      through snow toward lonesome farms in grand-
      father night,
who studied Plotinus Poe St. John of the Cross telep-
      athy and bop kabbalah because the cosmos in-
      stinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas,
who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking vis-
      ionary indian angels who were visionary indian
      angels,
who thought they were only mad when Baltimore
      gleamed in supernatural ecstasy,
who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Okla-
      homa on the impulse of winter midnight street
      light smalltown rain,
who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston
      seeking jazz or *** or soup, and followed the
      brilliant Spaniard to converse about America
      and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship
      to Africa,
who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving
      behind nothing but the shadow of dungarees
      and the lava and ash of poetry scattered in fire
      place Chicago,
who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the
      F.B.I. in beards and shorts with big pacifist
      eyes **** in their dark skin passing out incom-
      prehensible leaflets,
who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting
      the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism,
who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union
      Square weeping and ******* while the sirens
      of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed
      down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also
      wailed,
who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked
      and trembling before the machinery of other
      skeletons,
who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight
      in policecars for committing no crime but their
      own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication,
who howled on their knees in the subway and were
      dragged off the roof waving genitals and manu-
      scripts,
who let themselves be ****** in the *** by saintly
      motorcyclists, and screamed with joy,
who blew and were blown by those human seraphim,
      the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean
      love,
who balled in the morning in the evenings in rose
      gardens and the grass of public parks and
      cemeteries scattering their ***** freely to
      whomever come who may,
who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up
      with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath
      when the blond & naked angel came to pierce
      them with a sword,
who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate
      the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar
      the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb
      and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but
      sit on her *** and snip the intellectual golden
      threads of the craftsman's loom,
who copulated ecstatic and insatiate with a bottle of
      beer a sweetheart a package of cigarettes a can-
      dle and fell off the bed, and continued along
      the floor and down the hall and ended fainting
      on the wall with a vision of ultimate **** and
      come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness,
who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling
      in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning
      but prepared to sweeten the ****** of the sun
      rise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked
      in the lake,
who went out ******* through Colorado in myriad
      stolen night-cars, N.C., secret hero of these
      poems, cocksman and Adonis of Denver--joy
      to the memory of his innumerable lays of girls
      in empty lots & diner backyards, moviehouses'
      rickety rows, on mountaintops in caves or with
      gaunt waitresses in familiar roadside lonely pet-
      ticoat upliftings & especially secret gas-station
      solipsisms of johns, & hometown alleys too,
who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in
      dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and
      picked themselves up out of basements hung
      over with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third
      Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemploy-
      ment offices,
who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on
      the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the
      East River to open to a room full of steamheat
      and *****,
who created great suicidal dramas on the apartment
      cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime
      blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall
      be crowned with laurel in oblivion,
who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested
      the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of
      Bowery,
who wept at the romance of the streets with their
      pushcarts full of onions and bad music,
who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the
      bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in
      their lofts,
who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned
      with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded
      by orange crates of theology,
who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty
      incantations which in the yellow morning were
      stanzas of gibberish,
who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht
      & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable
      kingdom,
who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for
      an egg,
who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot
      for Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks
      fell on their heads every day for the next decade,
who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccess-
      fully, gave up and were forced to open antique
      stores where they thought they were growing
      old and cried,
who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits
      on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse
      & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments
      of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the
      fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinis-
      ter intelligent editors, or were run down by the
      drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality,
who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually hap-
      pened and walked away unknown and forgotten
      into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alley
      ways & firetrucks, not even one free beer,
who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of
      the subway window, jumped in the filthy Pas-
      saic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street,
      danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed
      phonograph records of nostalgic European
      1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and
      threw up groaning into the ****** toilet, moans
      in their ears and the blast of colossal steam
      whistles,
who barreled down the highways of the past journeying
      to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude
      watch or Birmingham jazz incarnation,
who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out
      if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had
      a vision to find out Eternity,
who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who
      came back to Denver & waited in vain, who
      watched over Denver & brooded & loned in
      Denver and finally went away to find out the
      Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes,
who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying
      for each other's salvation and light and *******,
      until the soul illuminated its hair for a second,
who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for
      impossible criminals with golden heads and the
      charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet
      blues to Alcatraz,
who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky
   &nb
 Nov 2012 HEK
Gabrielle F
on this cold august morning
i feel melancholy because
i gave  love away to one man while
thinking of another man whose
heart sadly belongs to a kind woman whose bones show
all the way through her skin and whose face always looks
tired and mouth is
creased at the edges
and always billowing earnestly.

i gave love away again
body stained in blueduskhalflight
heart a plump and cold and wild piece
of fruit splitting
and juicing sweetly and silently within me.

i carved a space for myself in the flesh
of a man i barely know but find beautiful.
that is good enough reason for me by now.

i used to wait for the feeling of urgency and
hope one swallows
when beginning what they think will be the end.
the first moment of a body is a holy moment when you
think it will be the last body.

all the soulful forms i once treasured like heirlooms
now lie still
gathering dust in warped memory rooms-
they stay young and foolish and hopelessly recklessly gorgeous
they stay freshly freckled smooth watery eyed and kind hearted,
while i grow wise and brown with years and vicious with years
my collection of ghosts
preserve in their sleepily curling hands
some ****** up perfect version of loveandforever
that i once concocted

not so long ago it seems.
 Nov 2012 HEK
tyler turner
it was a kiss on the lips and a tinge of pink
rising on the cheeks
it was heated, warm, wet
never comfortable
yet so exciting and thrilling
it was risky and terrifying
but it was easy and cool

it was a few little blue words
on the screen of a monitor
little bee stings
to a boy who was far too allergic

it was easy to be
naive and stupid
and so
hopelessly endlessly wholly
holy
holy
wholly in love

it was so hard
trying and hurtful to pluck the stingers from my
skin
not my heart
never my heart
because im alive still alive
alive to this day

it's now a low tint
not quite enough to be a blush
not quite
h
     h
        h
          o
              t
               t
                 t

enough to
make me stir and squirm and
want more more
please more

oh love,
to be so carefree and happy
to fall endlessly and heavily into your arms

it was so beautiful
and so ugly
and so
so so
...
i dont know
i can't decide if i miss it
or if i never want to feel it again.
 Nov 2012 HEK
BB Tyler
Temperature
 Nov 2012 HEK
BB Tyler
We burn when we're
young
to cool down when we're
older,
but as a sum
does it freeze?
does it smolder?
 Oct 2012 HEK
Anne Sexton
You said the anger would come back
just as the love did.

I have a black look I do not
like. It is a mask I try on.
I migrate toward it and its frog
sits on my lips and defecates.
It is old. It is also a pauper.
I have tried to keep it on a diet.
I give it no unction.

There is a good look that I wear
like a blood clot. I have
sewn it over my left breast.
I have made a vocation of it.
Lust has taken plant in it
and I have placed you and your
child at its milk tip.

Oh the blackness is murderous
and the milk tip is brimming
and each machine is working
and I will kiss you when
I cut up one dozen new men
and you will die somewhat,
again and again.
 Oct 2012 HEK
Gerard M
I remember the Big Red Man,
Oh, I remember him well,
The house was filled with holly and pine,
That fragrance, that smell.

I had to get clean
And dressed for bed.
"Go to sleep, love,
or he won't come,'' my father had said.

His was the ultimate voice of authority,
but I couldn't obey.
During those nights,
I would hear a bump, and not a word I would say.

The Big Red Man had arrived,
I knew.
My eyes were shut.
The boards creaked beneath his shoe.

I wanted to yell, to call out to him.
But I knew I couldn't, for, during those nights, he was the law.
Then when he was gone, I would be so full of excitement,
I had to clench my jaw.

Presents galore,
My family would wake.
We'd play with our presents,
then after church and dinner, tuck into cake.

I remember  one time,
after the holidays,
these girls brought in his glasses,
I was amazed and jealous, for I could only gaze.

Though, now, I laugh at those times,
An age ago.
That Big Red Man,
How I miss him so.
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