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Death stands above me, whispering low
I know not what into my ear:
Of his strange language all I know
Is, there is not a word of fear.
 May 2013 Lydia Ann
Giani LaDavia
Lying alone in the crisp cold breaths,
of the shifting shadows,
in our aged attic,
sipping the gin from my flask.
The spirit they call Death,
it held me in its arms,
and told me I was a child beyond my present.
Not heaven sent, nor innocent.
He said the cocoon is hanging in the sky,
and soon all men will die,
right above Hamlet’s hot hair,
but all we can do is stop and stare,
but then again, Death is only a word in a liquid that freezes,
and still my guitar gently breezes.
Now plunging into another whiskey bottle so manifest,
sipping with the same spoon of my childlike past.
Listening to the songs of those times,
from the cardinals below,
The puddles in my heart, so deep, yet oh so shallow.
There are so many worlds in our eyes,
more species, more flies.
I see my reflection in the television.
Just a man I’ll never understand,
a stranger in some kind of danger.
I can’t understand why my heart races, in such frantic paces.
I’ve been watching a lot of faces in these worlds.
So many beautiful, terrible signs being orchestrated.
Too great for human hands, as it implodes in my mind’s eye.
By now the serpent is circulating through my veins,
squeezing my neck with unbearable strains.
The changing winds took away the air in our throats,
to a place higher than the highest notes,
that used to dance in our voices.
Now we are forced to suppress that feeling between us.
Your heart is just a hoax,
played like an act for the common folks.
Your eyes are no longer my golden prize,
just two dark windows,
where the creature cries.
 May 2013 Lydia Ann
Tom McCone
the door is still ajar and there is still a lamp lit
and hue spills out in a straight line
where I follow markings on the
sides of highways to forget
how I won't forget the impression
you leave on the sidewalk through
season after passage of next to
brightlit stripmalls somewhere
with snowcapped mountains
and lakes and lakes and lakes away know
I'll probably miss you

when streetlights burn down
when stoplights wear out
I'll be out on the ocean
you'll find me in
hillsides on
indian summer mornings
or in
rain flecks on train windows
winding trails around
provinces I'll
never figure out how to pronounce
you won't miss me
 May 2013 Lydia Ann
fdg
I know a boy
 May 2013 Lydia Ann
fdg
who killed himself
but nobody will tell me how,
and I'm too afraid to ask
because what if it wasn't an accident
and what if,
one day,
I know another boy.
 May 2013 Lydia Ann
fdg
hm
 May 2013 Lydia Ann
fdg
hm
You don't smoke and I don't smoke
but sometimes I have dreams of sitting on a tree branch in a faux leather jacket
while you sit beside me and twirl my hair around your fingers
my eyeliner smeared the way you like it
black nails and black lips, the black death sits between my lips,
don't even worry about a thing,
I'll die anyway.
 May 2013 Lydia Ann
j
and as i traced my fingertips
along your pale blue veins,
and looked into your tired eyes
longing to kiss your sweet plump lips
i felt that rush of life beneath my skin,
and from thereon i knew
i would one day
like to make you feel that alive
and be the reason behind
the smile on your face
and a new-found twinkle in your
eyes
It was a small little thing
Between us a silent game
I wished it ‘good morning’,
As it brushed my window frame.
It swayed happily at me
Softly holding onto its root
The chance-grown guava tree
I thought would never bear fruit.
‘Good morn, Guavo, how are you?
My window frame, did it hurt?’
‘Nay, I’m fine, had my cup of dew,
I really made a good start.’
I loved this cute little thing
To ask it ‘how do you do?’
Loved the undernourished sapling
Why I really had no clue.
After sometime it started to fade
Keeping relations is not so easy
‘Guavo’ disappeared from my head
I forgot the lean sickly tree.
Then one day my wife came along
A big round guava she brought me
‘Taste how it is, the plant is fine and strong,
It’s from your friendly tree.’
It came back to me inside and deep
Our time-buried sweet story
Guavo hasn’t forgotten our friendship
I must run to it and say sorry.
There it stood proud and high
A full-grown guava tree
Swaying in the wind, saying ‘hi,
I haven’t forgotten thee’.
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