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 Mar 2017 JC Lucas
Julia Brennan
The sweet exhalations of my Caroline girl
fog the windows of our wood-lined station wagon
moving down US 20.
Her doughball palms and fudgy fingers pressed against the thick glass,
her bright pink hat nods as the
snowglobe snowflakes flurry to the ground.
Strapped into her car seat, her plump legs kick forth
left - right
left - right
left - right;
a staccato rhythm forming from a pair of Barbie light-up snowboots
that beat the back of my driver's seat.
We are shooting forward,
straight into the horizon. Into the unknown and away from what was.
The blush sunset and amber clouds foretell
the future.
Inspired by a vivid dream
 Nov 2016 JC Lucas
Darby Rose
I can't help the pieces of him
from falling to my feet with every step I take
I am a ******* wreck of a person
right now
perhaps always
my trivial problems overwhelm me
just as much as the guilt I feel for letting them
whilst watching the migration of the homeless
as winter approaches with bitter ferocity
whilst stepping over the blood soaked carpet
of a friends apartment
trying desperately not to stare too long at stitches
and I still cannot even bring myself to take down
the ******* picture
he gave me
still hanging on my bathroom wall
 Nov 2016 JC Lucas
Darby Rose
Lives
 Nov 2016 JC Lucas
Darby Rose
I wonder helplessly for the fate of lives I've abandoned
for those that once surrounded me
as well as that of my own
like running into an old friend
poking relentlessly
attempting desperately
to paint a picture of
their everyday life
as it stands today
unachievable through means of small talk
I often wonder for the lives my old lovers lead
today
I am coming to terms with the fact that
it is not my place
to care for them any longer
I often wonder where I'd be today
had I chosen to stay
awhile longer
I often wonder
just what it was
about this particular one
that made falling in love
seem worth it
and just how have I managed
to stay this long ?
 May 2016 JC Lucas
Julia Brennan
She waves  
and thunders      
                  until  
the infinite's jaws        
                slurp Her in.
And she careens   and          
      twirls
and
levitates in delicate  spirals
eternally falling    
                  into nothing.
Oblivion    
is
                free from
    phenomenon,
until dawn  
   peels open
Her dreary eyes
and
energizes
catatonic visions.
 Apr 2016 JC Lucas
A
Oregon Coast
 Apr 2016 JC Lucas
A
We don’t have a name,
And our love isn’t something they write about.
I watch you scrawl some stains on a paper
As you tell me to go,
But I can’t.
I try to leave, but my molten feet stick to the floor.
The space between us is different from the others.
Am I a scribble in your black notebook?
Because your name is written countlessly,
In elegant, clear penmanship in mine.
But we aren’t that obvious and clear.
Our names aren’t printed on the latest newspaper,
To read all about.
Our hands don’t rush together in unison
When we walk down the sidewalk.
We survive through secrets,
Sending letters through underground cities.
We dance around the words of others,
As my mouth slowly meets yours.
We are a garden that ceased to exist,
But instead reversed..
You are a mystery,
Not in the typical manner.
You are not the one you can solve again and again;
But one that puzzles me every time.
You find me at midnight,
My hands are shaking, as I hold you, eyes bright.
Your palms are cold, thawed by the heat of your breath
And we sit.
Your peculiar eyes dazzle me.
It’s not an emerald green,
But the kind of green in a forest
Among an earl gray coast.
Nostalgic, but warm.
Rainy, but bright.
We are tenacious as one.
Through you I’ve lived a thousand lives;
Sipping pink lemonade in a rainy diner,
Standing on the Oregon coast,
The navy ocean biting at our feet and
Inviting us for an icy swim,
Chasing you down the Champs-Elysses,
Watching your eyes turn into London skies.
I’ve seen every bitter moment of your life,
From the bruises on your thighs,
To the thoughts you try so hard to bury away.
I love you from the faded buttons of your flannel
To the burning tips of your hair.

Please let us exist as one.
 Jan 2016 JC Lucas
Julia Brennan
White cotton linens
Shuddering in summer's breeze
Ghostly drifting leaf
haiku
 Nov 2015 JC Lucas
Shay Petterson
You’re not what I thought you were
          In the beginning
And you’re not what I thought you were
          In the end.
As it turns out,
     People are greyscale-
Happy and sad
And angry and kind
And spiteful and full of love.
All at the same time.
          There can’t be black and white
Because this is the human condition
     Perfect and imperfect
          And everything in between.
I loved you
          And I hated you.
And I couldn’t decide what your intentions were.
          Because you are a beautiful and conflicted
     soul who gave what you
          could and
left me to sort out the rest.
 Nov 2015 JC Lucas
Julia Brennan
cheap beer,
hand-rolled cigarettes,
crisp air slicing the night,
the divide crumbles beneath the beastly black ball
plunked into a crook.
gentle expressions liberated
from an
anchored breeze
as minds intertwine under the
beaming orb of night.
bedrock activities in conjunction with
still, articulating hearts
mimic
an innocent jubilee
that only morning knows of its arrangement.
 Oct 2015 JC Lucas
Coop Lee
bottlerocket,
ski click &
shoot.

         [empress impressed.]

petrol souls drift the skin & aetherous
of our holy mother lake midday.
by alpine,
lymph node,
spine of glimmering fish;
i never truly thought that love could destroy.

       [to display the paradise boon and boom salute.]

her knife atop the stump.

*

yon machines construct art-form of reservoir (yon being short for yonder),
knee-boarder-boy wake to wake, he wags his tail when he dreams.

        [lakeside.]

tribal the beach: a family drunk on juiceboxes.
rolling rocks. tall boys
& boulders/ bountiful canyon kids
with their beautiful gasping dogs.
****** knee **** and gallop at the foot of a mountain/mound &
sugar ants stomped, longing to empire.

mom bunches her fists into sand
of stolen crag, listening closely for her childhood in the whistle
of a casio conch.
margaritaville will do.

          [to **** or kiss beetles.]

kiss;
the bitty prince.
maintain a steady alliance with all lifeforms and flora.
life is programmed as thus;
algorithm of love.

bright honeydew soaked slabs of wood,
or plank, tabletop treatise.
wet pile of seeds.

young small birds hoard seeds for winter;
teeter into spring;
& upon summer find solace in swift slip-n-slide daylights.
 Oct 2015 JC Lucas
Pablo Picasso
the palms keep vigil over the tired countryside. orange trees bear clusters of golden sun ripened in the red noon. cypress clean clouds from the azure where insects glimmer, sparks born of incandescent sunlight. i listen to the rhythm of silence scented by fabulous blossoms. and my spirit is drawn towards these heavy desires that haunt the coolness of shade.
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