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 Aug 2014 Marie-Niege
hkr
tell me i've got my father's eyes
i'll tell you daddy's got the eyes of god
black and blue

tell me i've got my mother's heart
i'll tell you they're identical
*black and blue
 Aug 2014 Marie-Niege
marina
i cannot imagine
a day better than
laughter in the
air pockets
of tipped canoes
and lying out
on a boat
to watch the stars
with you
i found some old poetry
i'm also reconnecting with the friend i wrote this about
and it feels good
When everything is heavy but you cannot feel the
weight
You must've put the balances on someone else's
fate
And that was the beginning of the end that you will
see
A shallow recognition of the life you chose to
leave
It happens all too often, people give themselves
away
Accept the hands of others when they think they cannot
stay
But even if the truth puts reassurance in their
heads
The power they possess is like a prison for the
dead
Because you aren't walking and your feet are not your
own
You haven't the ability to set a different tone
for me, for those who give it all away
 Aug 2014 Marie-Niege
brooke
somebody left the gate open
and I am gone, past the fence
into the fields, in a blue filter,
naked and clothed in hair, snitched
by the call of a whippoorwill, ambushed
by tall grass and the merciless branches of
pines. Somebody left the gate open and I
am gone, yellow dogs peel from the bark
like old Cherokee tales and race my heels
with their tongues and big almond eyes



Somebody left the gate open.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
 Aug 2014 Marie-Niege
brooke
I left my
windows
wide open
and every-
thing dried
up, the organs
in the cabinets
the lilies on the
ribs, the weekend
was the worst and
monday is just an
empty cup.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
 Aug 2014 Marie-Niege
Tom McCone
tonight, i stand still,
all but well and slain by your
widening grin, with hair casting
ill-sketched shadows across
your cheek, out in the street, under
these humming lamps. under
this enveloping front.

some moment my head reeled
reveries of pretext for. still,
here i blink,
so unprepared. stuffing my
belongings into a tramping
pack late at night. laid out
on the couch arm. nothing knows,
now, i'd rather see you than
anything. careful footprint
placements. we got time, yeah.
still, honey, i'd trade magnitudes
of it up, for just just just a
handful extra seconds
skirting your gaze.

still,
honey, i'm atypically hopeful;
trembling here. i'm lit up
like you couldn't believe. i'm
on fire and kept warm,
throughout this meanwhile;
undertow miles away. grass
shooting up through the
soil in the back
yard.
tattered breath. your olivine eyes.
 Aug 2014 Marie-Niege
brooke
unruly, swarthy, dark and
full of Spaniard descent, I
never looked good on your
side, not that I was a mexican
trinket, but all your new girlfriends
are made of cotton with bluets in their
hair, slender fingers that slip through
your ribs where mine always got jam
                                                                        med
I
am

falling
into the uncategorized, the
ethnic             gap
unraveled at the end of the
stairs
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
 Aug 2014 Marie-Niege
Megan Grace
sometimes my mouth was too
sharp, my  tongue  was  too
fast, my eyebrow would
arch just a bit too high
and  you  would  get
that    slow   smile
I    loved,    s a y
"whoa    there,
sassafras."
but you  still loved
m e in  my sassiest
m   o   m   e  n  t   s
 Aug 2014 Marie-Niege
Megan Grace
i barely  dream  about
your  fingers  i  barely
dream  about    y o u r
fingers i barely dream
a b o u t  your  fingers
this is a lie
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