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 Jan 2015 Makiya
Julie Butler
duplicated hills
spilling thrills upon water
I watched the sun go down
I watched the bay change
& I wondered
why do i drive late at night
just to be all alone
get me away from this bridge
& take me back home
I'm spilling my guts tonight
& I don't care who sees it
I have enough on my plate
to feed every beast needing
I wish I could spin this wheel
& flip me around
park my car in your yard
in your bed I'd lay down
but I cannot tonight
my thoughts are all slipping
but i think I've grinned enough
to sleep tight where i'm living
there is a chance this night
to see your sweet face
if i could just close my eyes
& sleep now
to not waste
another second
being selfish
in writing this out
i wish to wake up with you
i n s t e a d  o f
face down
now i can sleep
 Jan 2015 Makiya
david badgerow
i dream of burying my face
in your hair and inhaling your halo on
these cold and woman-less nights
after the all-male beer drinking sessions
nightmares i have to pull myself out of somehow
because there is no small warm body
to hold me when the paranoid shadows come close
howling on the window curtains so
i've set fire to twenty pages of poems
standing naked in the center of the room
the smoke weaves like three charmed cobras
and i just want to be home with you

i am home with you
after two days lying in the hammock
reading prose about clouds of white doves
and three nights in bed
drinking wine and laughing
with the record player on
we have succumbed to temptation
whispering about living on the moon together
your voice tickling my ear
pure like the song of a bird firmly in flight
insecure and exhilarating
your cheeks glowing like polished copper
in the candlelight from the bathroom
leg muscles trembling as we lock eyes
in a truly romantic spot
through one of the mirrors

when you go to work i don't feel so tough
i write you letters about scattered isolation and
rain interrupting sequences of thought
drenching the spruce trees you planted
as i lie on our bed and breathe
the odor your hair left on the pillow
meditation comes easiest with these plumes
and i have no place else to go
so please come back home to a
whole healthy man with
big holes in his ears an
uncanny adoration of your paintings
sacred pyramids in his eyes
and a you-sized hole in his chest

if you take tiny
steps
toward me and

i take tiny
steps
toward you then

in the oblivion of a forest at night
we can make body configurations together
i will bloom like an eternal daisy
blessed by your illuminated soul
in the small garden of silk skin
draped across your collarbone
or
just eat an apple in the hollow of a big oak tree together
 Jan 2015 Makiya
Abigail Ella
Once the calenders are up and slow January has melted through to July,
we will be the ribbon in the clearance bin at a craft store after Easter.
You and I and everyone, we are the sky-blue silk that,
having finished doughnuts and lemonade
I'd run my sticky fingers through, slipping under cellophane wrappings and unraveling rolls as my mother pulled me through to the felt.
Cut straight we fray, taken to flame we change,
and on an oak table in the kitchen of some suburban household,
we will succumb. By the hands of a grade-schooler, our God,
we will harden to plastic and by candlelight, our means and ends
will unravel no longer.
 Jan 2015 Makiya
Shashank Virkud
Finding
my identity
as I fumble
through your
laundry,
I'm finding
my identity
as I stumble
through some
palm trees.

Sitting on the sand
where I watch the tide,
I'm sitting on the sand
where I syllogise;
sunshine and sugar pills,
of which I am comprised.

Honey,
if I'm a ***,
it's because you made me one.
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