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 Jun 2014 Marie-Niege
Tom McCone
sugar, you know
i hurt just as
much.
 Jun 2014 Marie-Niege
R Saba
dancing
 Jun 2014 Marie-Niege
R Saba
finally
after days of dark, threatening clouds
and anxious birds tracing signals into the air
and trees waving back at the lightning
while the thunder rolled around this valley-

finally
it rained

the sun fought against the sky and lost,
instead blazing behind the curtain
and turning the sky a dangerous yellow
while the trees accepted the sepia rain
with defeat

i stayed inside and watched their branches
waving lazily back and forth
as if to escape the rain, or maybe
just to dance beneath it, i don't know
but i knew
i didn't feel like dancing

i felt like dancing
when we were alone in an old building
whose walls echoed the tinny swing music
back at us and whose floors were already printed
with the patterns needed to teach you
the basic formation
and we fell out of place a million times
only to fall back in again

if you were here, i'd take you out
into this rain
and dance until the thunder came back
and celebrate the lightning's wrath
and fall out of formation a million times
only to fall back in again

with you, i always feel like dancing
weather poetry metaphor etc.
 Jun 2014 Marie-Niege
brooke
you have always been
fringed in gold, always
back lit, probably born
with a silver lining, never
having been a cloud but
you effortlessly drifted
into my life, and out
and out, and out
and
out
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
 Jun 2014 Marie-Niege
brooke
I  s t i l l  b l a m e  m y s e l f.
a n d  w e  c o u l d  a r g u e
t h e  d y n a m i c s  o f  h a t e
a n d  w h a t  c o n s t i t u t e s
a s  h a t i n g  b u t  w h y
b o t h e r  w h e n  y o u
w i l l  never  s a y  m y
n a m e  w i t h  a
p o s i t i v e
c o n n o t a t i o n.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
 Jun 2014 Marie-Niege
Sebastian
I remember asking my dad,
“How many stars are in the sky,”
and he said something like,
“Way too many to count.”
But I’ve counted.
And after recounting
                                      and recounting
and scribbling in my notebook
under my fathers flashlight
I can tell you that there is
indeed a number.

And to this day I prefer
reading the stars over anything.
They’re the oldest book ever written.
Space: the oldest canvas to be sewn
and the cosmos the paint of Picasso.
Each spec is its own character
each pair a set of eyes
where I can lose myself in their gaze.
A celestial connect the dots
where I collect the pictures
and pick out my favorite spots.

But when my son
is old enough to ask,
“How many stars are in the sky?”
I’ll just hand him a notebook
and tell him to read what he sees.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
©Sebastian @http://hellopoetry.com/sebastian/
 Jun 2014 Marie-Niege
brooke
but i am just kid
trying to be too old
for someone to whom
I am just skin, a mouth
on two legs, he cracks
***** jokes and I
realize I don't
have to like
them
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
 Jun 2014 Marie-Niege
Tom McCone
all at once, things come crumbling
together. a step in every direction,
rightful empty dissolves to leave,
in stationary hollow, itself:
presented representation. no
point left unscathed. the exact
same moment the water started
leaking down and out the walls. a
series of equicardinal trackmarks in
the snow. over the bridge we shift
momenta. wheels turn. nerves
coupling. a flood laps at my
unfurling fingerprints. water
rises like swallows nesting in the
marsh of my throat. try as we might,
turn of position, matched glance, precession
after next, the swell silently engulfs the woodwork.

blood curls through these beds, as beautiful as the water running over;
waves distill through smaller wash.

a larger scheme spreads its lips. the teeth
play quotient to tree limbs. a schedule unwound.
caught the sun with smooth hooks.
everything changes from here, or stagnates at a
shifting viewpoint. but, from this glowing angle,
i could mistake you for ordinality or
plain daylight. i could
fall a little
further
down.

instead, all translates in bold motion,
binding fibers of dissolution,
morning hues
through the dark.
more nothing.
 Jun 2014 Marie-Niege
marina
12:26
 Jun 2014 Marie-Niege
marina
kissing you felt like
swallowing fire, like drowning
in thin air, like causing an earthquake
under just my skin

and it was perfect
so i kissed him
 Jun 2014 Marie-Niege
marina
and it goes like this:
one day you will look at me
and tell me i'm beautiful like
you always do and i will
not be able to take it anymore

i've been trying hard not to
be in love with you like i know i always
have been, because since day one
i never wanted to just ******* or lie to you
or push you away

i just
wanted
you

beautiful you, with
your quirked eyebrow and your
mother's nose and your love of
stormy afternoons and most recently
me

(i think about you all the time)
you tell me, like i don't understand
but one day you will learn that
i have written hundreds of lines of
poetry about you and i hope that they
will make you
smile
 Jun 2014 Marie-Niege
Kagami
Maybe
 Jun 2014 Marie-Niege
Kagami
The power of the word,
Or maybe the power we give it.

A forever-long walk along the beach,
Watching as the sun rises into the windows
Of a small house on the edge.
One push of the wind and it will plummet;
An endless distance lays below.
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