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 Jun 2014 Court
Harrison
Here We Are
 Jun 2014 Court
Harrison
I really miss those nights
listening to songs we would
have hated 3 years ago;
talking about
5 years from now
when we were at the beach
sitting on the benches at the pier
when the sun had already
died
we didn't know how
easy we had it
of course, we didn't experience
everything
we didn't fall in love
like everyone else
I didn't think we we're
ready
I don't think we're ready
now-
but we want it now,
more than ever
it's because we finally figured out
what they never told us
or tried to tell us:
that out there is everything you've
ever wanted and everything you don't;
every where you want to be and
every place you're trying to run away from;
everything that you hate
and everything that you love
all together, thrown at you
at the speed of a waterfall
and you taste it splashing in your mouth-
it needs a little more of what we didn't have
 Jun 2014 Court
Ruzica Matic
Joy
 Jun 2014 Court
Ruzica Matic
Joy
The Danube was moody that night
- stormy and loud and rowdy
like a happy old drunk

we walked side by side
and counted the stars
exploding in the sky

we were young
and we were new
and the air felt like fireworks

I wore a frilly skirt
and a silly smile

you wore your dinner jacket
with your grown-up tie

and we danced to the music
across the ripple river

while Belgrade woke up
all around us
with whispers and sighs
 Jun 2014 Court
Jonny Angel
There's a circadian rhythm here,
muffled voices & murmurs,
the clack of gum,
a screaming child,
the perfect place to dream
& I do,
about her.

She's just figment
of my wildest imaginations
& if she only knew
how I'd treat her,
she'd come,
alive.
 Jun 2014 Court
CH Gorrie
for Malani*

1.
The blinds drawn, she vacated her life.
Through grieving lips she survives our futures,
Being kept half-alive in an unconscious tongue

That allows a paragon of hope to thrive:
She was whole.
No—

Blotched out and blurred,
She became a lacuna,
A Platonic anamnesis.

"She is now in the company of angels":
The faithful mourners' conviction
And her integrity's fragmentation.

2.
Haunt of our occasions—
My musings' apparition!—
Brown eyes never shone so bright.
This poem follows up another poem I wrote titled "The Memory of Malani Sathyadev, Preserved on an Answering Machine."

She vanished in the shadows
of a mid-March Sunday’s moon.
When I first heard the news
an orange leapt from its bough.
There were bees in the flowerbed.
Grass shattered under my feet;
the smell of soot and ash
clung lightly to the breeze;
her smile fell
from a Hong Kong orchid
off Market Street.

The news first came
dead-ended and one-way.
Eight years’ reflection on that day
have hoped it was a turn in life:
the harrowing left onto Texas
from Mulberry Drive –
the high-branch’s snap
in the old, ragged pine –
when I was lost
in an Irish poet’s mind.

Hearing her voice, years since passed,
among this phone’s old messages,
I hear myself the day I heard the news –
Christianity’s eternity
became eternally confused.

Her long, black-curtain-hair,
the books piled at her feet,
the way philosophy
rolled off of her physique…

All I hear now when I think of that day
is the frail rattle of

a noose’s sway: pebbles beneath the midnight train.

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

*Anamnesis* In philosophy, anamnesis is a concept in Plato's epistemological and psychological theory that he develops in his dialogues Meno and Phaedo, and alludes to in his Phaedrus.

It is the idea that humans possess knowledge from past incarnations and that learning consists of rediscovering that knowledge within us.
 Jun 2014 Court
tom krutilla
hope this was'nt a charade
when you said hello to me today
as my smile reciprocates

our small talk was pleasing to me
hoping for a future repeat
but not yet ready to fall at your feet

the blueness of your eyes, tease my senses
as you try to find the weakness in my defenses
and I admire your assault, so relentless

but I am one who takes their time
my eyes wide open, and never blind
need to understand if you are my find

hope your honest, when these questions are posed
don't look at me and say I suppose
cause I,ll say good luck to you, and your sad woes
 Jun 2014 Court
naivemoon
Untitled
 Jun 2014 Court
naivemoon
I love him. I've loved him since the time he tied my left skate in March 2013. And it's a love that aches and hurts and explodes. But it's also a love that sings and twirls and laughs for no reason. It's a love that has you crying in the bathroom on a Saturday night but its also a love that has you dancing in the shower on a Monday morning. It's a love that's left me with cramped fingers, dry ink pens and full notebooks. It's a love makes me feel like a thunderstorm. It's a love that makes me feel like a sunset. He's not a home, he's a person. A wonderful one. And sometimes people say things like, "why would you forgive him," or, "why don't you just let go." And I smile. I used to get mad but out of all the types of love this is, it's also a love that's flexible. It's not a love that waits or chases but a loves that's there. It's a love that shares shoulders and stories. If I've learned anything about loving you it has been that if I cannot love you as a lover, I will love you as friend. I will love you messy handwriting, always asleep first, bad haircuts and all. Our love is flexible. Our love is patient. Our love is what happens when you rub your eyes. It's a love that bruises and bleeds and scabs and heals. It's a love that asks, "how was your day?" And would wait patiently forever for your reply. How was your day?
 Jun 2014 Court
jo forstrom
A broken heart has no refuge
as it sits broiling away in the sun

Trying to escape all that was once so beautiful
but stung by the sword of betrayal.

jo.
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