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Natassia Serviss Aug 2017
The skeletons aren't in my closet;
They’re in my bed,
They're in every word I’ve ever said.
You know my past and what I’ve seen
Because being hidden is something I’ve never been.
They'll wash your blood right off the pavement,
The summer rains crashing through your window.
It's the harshest hit you've ever felt on the cement.
All the cracks in my mental rifts fill the room.
It's a flood that'll drown us soon.
I always forget just who I am
And what I want from this storm ahead.
My words are an anagram;
The story behind is a fresh color red.
What I meant is something not even I know
Because someday soon my mind will turn.
The words I wrote will have begun to show
Then I’ll see the white of the bones,
The ribcage I remembered seeing.
In our lake we've been casting stones
Talking up stories about the world we wish would be so freeing.
In my closet wasn't a world I’d been hiding.
In my closet was the pavement you'd been riding.
I've been writing this poem on a mess of receipts for the last week.
Anthony Reynolds Aug 2017
I'm sitting on a beach away from home
Waves rolling gentle as the breeze
The green tide of Evergreens flow below
A glowing orange sky as the sun falls asleep

My body sits motionless
While my soul dances in the mirror
The feeling of something so bliss
I've never seen life any clearer

Staring at the waves wishing, washing
Telling me secrets from down deep
Clear, crisp spring water dancing
In total blackness is a treat

Stars floating around in the liquid universe
Begging me to jump in and explore
Like when you stare into the night sky
And feel your body lifting off the floor
Mike Virgl Jul 2017
Walkin' on the edge of land
Gripping hold with weary hand
Staggering over I fall to stand
What do I see?

For the end of the road is near
And spitting out at the end of the pier
A land locked farmers fear
Of the unknown

The blue waters, rising sea
Began right where you can see
All the clearness after the foamy brine
Forming a line

To divide the truth of heart
You find you can not pull them apart
The end of land is where it starts
A blue monster
I had a weird realization of how we see the sea, ocean, lakes, etc. We can see it as an end of land, or a start of sea, we can see it as a nightmare or an adventure, it can be peaceful or turbulent. It just kinda speaks to me know, I'm in between the Pacific and Atlantic right now. Take that as you will.
Jim Marchel Jul 2017
A river runs
While a lake stands still
And the mountains eclipse and make dwarves of the hills.
The meadow blooms,
The flowers swoon
As the sunlight of day paves a path for the moon.
As I lie here alone in a desolate state
Immersed in my senses but unfit to relate,
I can't help but notice I'm incredibly small
Surrounded by beauty and grandeur and all.
No friends to console me except the whistling pines,
No one to reach out and hold me
But the wheatgrass feels fine.
When I speak
My words fall like anchors in the sea;
The little waves of the lake that hear them
Shake their heads in disbelief.
The only truth I now hold to heart
Is that oftentimes life takes us back to the start.
A river runs
While a lake stands still
And the mountains are eclipsed by
My power of will.
loggi Jun 2017
On the lake
Sits a toad,
An ugly thing
Three years old
With boils,
large lumps,
And a croak
That challenges
The voice
Of an old woman
Who smokes.
Placidly he stares
Off in space,
And doesn't care
What takes a glance
And passes upon his lake.
He is a simple thing,
Three years old
Admiring tranquility
On a quiet lake.
Rebecca Gismondi Jun 2017
I.
she scratches her back,
marking territory on translucent skin
they are of the same opacity -
as if upon meeting they scanned each other’s bones
to ensure strength
one has a way of smiling
where her lips pull against her gums
and the other has the tendency
to flip the pillow to the cold side before sleeping
they are never not entwined
they never had to get used to
two sets of bras in the dryer,
a hairbrush constantly covered with
each other’s blonde hair,
never using the condoms in their jewelry boxes
it was easy
is easy
when one asked the other
for a matching tattoo,
she put her partner’s initials on the soles of her feet

II.
the birthday party was in full swing by mid-afternoon
no one in the party had hair any lighter than charcoal
and the birthday girl was four, wearing only one shoe
all the women were clad in floral bikinis;
the ripples of their stretched skin on full display
in this circle, they honed their cultural energy
with coconut water and bongo drums
the guest of honour was passed out within an hour,
but they had come all this way
and wanted to make the most of it

III.
the night before she had found herself
entwined with a bodybuilder ten years her senior
she turned her hands over and over,
checking for signs that she had changed
but as the dog licked the inside of her legs
she was at peace with the fact that she always
belonged in a stranger’s bed
he said she felt good
and pressed welts passionately onto her ***
he wanted to take her sailing on the lake the following day
but she preferred to sit on a man-made sugared beach alone
Laura Slaathaug Jun 2017
a child's first exposure to water:
18 months, curious and shivering,
he runs on brown wet sand
under the wide cloudy sky
to the blue gray lake up to his knees, lapping against his legs.
He feels the mud oozing between his toes.
Light glimmers on the waves,
and splashing, he tries to catch it.
Hands in the wind-tossed water, he grins.
When the wind roars and pushes him back,
his hair stands on end.
he stumbles
and turns and sees his mother,
blonde like him,
her hair wrapped up in a knot, windswept
dressed in white
her belly round and soft and full
like the moon--
there like she always is,
waiting and watching with care
even when he can't see her.
Like the tide coming in,
he goes to her.
loggi Jun 2017
October 14th
-2005-

When is October,
With the leaves of red,
With the crisp cold wind
Blowing to the west.
There she sits and waits,
For the boy with the red Chevrolet.
It is eight o five,
He is five minutes late.
But she occupies herself
With the crumbling pastry
On her tiny plate.
He pulls up outside,
And she looks and waves,
With a smile she cannot hide.
It is nine o five.
It is time to go.
She had a great time, he knows.

It is November,
The pine is yellow,
As they walk down the lane.
He holds her slim hand,
And she laughs again
To a joke she would never tell
To any of her friends.
As they walk down the lane,
They talk about a future
They might never attain.
But here they are walking,
Down a yellowing park lane
With their hands linked together,
Waiting for time to go away.
There is a park bench,
Aside a small lake
With red and brown shapes
Just drifting upon
The placid landscape.
He motions to her
To come and sit with him
And take it all in:
This favorable day.
But she thinks of the time,
The job she has at five,
And she tells him, "let's go."
He looks at her and smiles,
Wishing time would go away
As they walked together,
towards the red Chevrolet

Here is December,
The leaves have lost their ember,
As she sits drinking coffee
By her apartment's window.
she is clad in comfort
Snug in a blanket
From her bed she had to unearth.
She blows her hot breath
Upon the chilled window pane,
And draws shapes, words, names
Upon the fogged window frame.
Finally she traces a heart,
With two initials
Separated by a plus sign.
She smiles at her art,
And the heart she has made,
And wishes it would not clear away.
But something catches her eye,
Through the unfogged heart lines,
A red Chevrolet parked
On the side of the street lane.
There is a knock on the door.
She gets up and tidies her space,
She looks in the mirror
And pouts about not having
Makeup on her face.
She goes to the door,
Takes a breath and opens
It to a familiar form.
He has flowers in a vase,
That has an etched heart, with her name

-2006-

It is January,
a month of frigidness,
but of drunken merry.
Here they survived
for only a time ago,
and the seasons
change with heavy snow.
They do not talk for a time,
But each of them wonder
If it is all fine.
Things return, as you know
A car running the highway,
And a girl living alone.
Oh that message said,
“I can’t wait to see you again.”
To her it was a punch,
To him it was a friend.
But their bonds to each other
They were only flailed,
But the cut would not make an end.
So this passage stayed this way,
He would drive a car,
She would look away.
But its hard not to see
A bright red Chevrolet.
So with a phone call,
at the crack of dawn.
A girl fell in love,
Which was all wrong.
The other would come,
And it will not be long.

Love in February,
pastel hearts and a chocolate box.
Bouquets, and fancy gin
All the flattery would begin.
Some weekends at the movies,
Some nights meeting her friends.
Their life started to return,
But what from it could she earn?
Some nice nights in candle light,
A stuffed animal from a claw,
But what did it mean at all?
“Yes, I’m free at eight.
Be on time you're always late.”
“Oh sure! I love to catch up.”
“Oh yeah, remember our lake?”
“Yes the one with all the ducks.”
“Yes that is the place, right?”
“Yeah I’ll see you there tonight?”
“I can’t wait at all,
I haven't seen you for so long.”
Some things are sacred,
When they are not shared.
But really this new girl,
Was not at all new.
She was the first one
And this other girl
Was a replacement
That he met in the fall.

Then walked in March
With his hands and loud clatter,
But he could not shake
The peace that had begun.
Two girls, different lives,
But they were both the same.
Same long flaxen hair,
That drifted below their backs.
same smile and loving stare,
But the only difference
Was their loving eyes.
The girl from the fall,
Had brown eyes, a soft voice,
and a spirit so gentle.
The girl from before,
had blue eyes and a voice
of loud summer laughter
who lived with a sense of death.
Blue eyes lived on the edge,
Brown eyes lived on the current.
But both girls would be the same,
nights wiping mascara,
Similar nights at the parlor.
Both were each others’ mirror
But none would take the curtain,
and reveal what was hidden.
He would not worry,
As he drove down the highway.
No grey doubt ever minded him
As he rode his red Chevrolet.
To him, it was a game.

Then April rain fell.
Can you even tell
What were the feelings
That were felt when she saw
The two plane tickets?
She was taken aback,
She had never left
The city she lived in,
And she rushed at him
With clutching arms and happy grin.
No words would describe
what she felt within.
The old girl had gone
to Europe for a trip,
Leaving him with one set of lips.
So he thought to himself,
a trip away would be good.
He would spend some time
With the girl he loved.
He would do whatever he could.
So at an airport,
at a quarter to nine,
The two of them talked
And everything was fine.
She would joke with him
That he was actually on time,
And he would make a face
To resent the sense of disgrace.
But here he was thinking,
Of the girl in another place.

Blooming flowers in May,
Were her favorite sight.
The reds, blues and pinks
were among spring’s delight.
She enjoyed the ducks on the lake.
This was her first time
Ever seeing these mallards
Bask and splash their heads.
He was on the other side
On a call he could not ignore.
Things started to slip with him.
She would call and he would say,
“Sorry, I’m busy.”
She asked him if he wanted
To meet her family.
“I’m sorry, I’m busy that day.”
But here she saw this sight,
A boy across the lake she liked.
She did not know who
gave him an “urgent” ring,
But he was laughing
At this emergency.
He seemed so distant this May,
But he was not far away.
She could go up and walk to him,
But if she dared cross
This great immense strait,
She could effortlessly reach midway.
But her balance would falter
Because he would not cross for her.
So she would sink underneath.

Runaway in June,
With flaxen hair flowing
With wind blowing down the highway
In that red Chevrolet.
Tan skin and sunglasses on,
These were the parts she enjoyed,
All summer long.
Although they neared a place,
Here time slowed and she could stop space.
She would turn up that song
And sing each lyric she liked,
and then toss it to him
as she passed him the mic.
All their troubles in May
Seemed to wither away,
as the hot air curled
each locket of hair.
Planes streaked up in the sky
As birds kited by.
The greenery of the trees
Flowed with life effortlessly:
Waving a sort of fresh hello
As the asphalt steamed
a cool dew of tomorrow.
They approached the exit,
With the harsh winding twist
That they would slow down and glide.
The sun streaming up in the sky,
Her happy gentle eyes.
He had another date at five.

Pink sky in July,
and a black aqua night
With night bugs buzzing
and the firefly light.
then on some warm nights
The sky filled with red, blue and white,
As fireworks attempted
to journey so high,
Until they bursted
And died in the cold atmosphere.
When it was past dusk
And the time settled on twilight,
The great blue vault would open up,
And reveal the infinite.
Stars twinkled, and flew
Against the nothingness
Hopping to find a purpose
For their brief existence.
The girl from the fall
Believed she had some worth,
That a creator put people
that she was meant to meet
Upon this sad Earth.
The girl from before
Did not know she encroached
On a love so new,
Nor did the girl from fall
know she was doing that too.
He would say “I love you.”
Which to her it was sweet.
But “you” can be plural.

They met in August,
August the tenth to be exact.
They knew each other
Ever since junior high,
But neither mustered the courage
To come up and say hi.
She went off to college,
He went away too,
But they met in a coffee shop
In the middle of June.
They soon started to talk,
and soon a new love grew.
This was the girl from before,
A clever girl who loved books
And a long afternoon snore.
He was a year older,
and he graduated a year ago.
She trusted him so much.
He bought her flowers,
He would spend hours with her,
Walking to the edge of nowhere,
And slowly journeying back.
But for some reason
Something came undone.
She wondered as she walked
Down upon the gray sidewalk.
Not watching or minding her step,
As she bumped into the girl
Walking to her left.
A brown eyed girl with flaxen hair,
Both unaware of a love they share.

A new friend in September,
She had began to know well.
Last August they collided,
Laughed at each others’ mistake,
and then chatted as if they knew
Each other for a longer time
than is accustomed to new friends.
They sometimes saw each other
While walking on the sidewalk.
Sometimes they smiled to chat,
And sometimes they waved
And never looked back.
Little by little they came through,
They talked, and they laughed
About anything old and new.
But soon they started to fade too.
The girl from before,
Started to work at night
And would not leave her apartment,
Until an hour after
The girl from the Fall left hers.
Maybe she was not meant to know,
Perhaps fate decided
That the truth would never come
If they never collided.
So things continued this way,
Until they met again one day.
They laughed and said they should catch up.
She got her number,
Next month it went under.

When is October?
Where she cried her eyes.
When in October,
Did she find out his lies?
She was someplace away,
Cruising down the highway.
It was at a party,
from a girl she would never know,
Who told her about the girl
That they both came to know,
Who had a boyfriend
That was so very sweet,
and a picture of them
That put her heart in her teeth.

October 14th
-2006-
9:14 pm

An hour does seem so long.
She asked him if she could
Borrow his red Chevrolet,
Because she had no other way.
It was late, and then came the rain
As she sped down the highway.
She left him a message,
that he did not understand:
“I’m coming to see you.”
As the car furiously ran.
The wind whipping, the clouds crying,
It was not safe the speed she went
In that red Chevrolet
Running down that highway.
She wanted to scream,
She wanted to fade away.
But time was there edging her so,
As she counted the minutes
For the amount of time
It would take to get there.
She would have to tell
The girl she began
To know so well as a friend.
But this had to come to an end.
She neared the exit
That had the sharp twist,
She tried to slow to a glide,
But the water kept up the stride.
And suddenly time slowed
As the car leapt off the road.

October 14th
-2006-
9:44 pm

Everything floated,
The dust, the old receipts
As she gripped the leather seat.
She just hit the guard rail right,
As the car flipped in the night.
glitter headlight shards,
And red sirens blurring,
Why was she in such a hurry?
One flip, then came two,
The mechanical acrobat
Performing a stunt
That was doomed to fail.
She counted the minutes,
That she still had left,
As her broken head
Leaked her thoughts upon the dash.
The memories slipped out:
The dates by the lake,
The days in the red Chevrolet,
and the girl who bumped
Into her on the sidewalk.
Sirens blurring, people looking,
at the side of the road.
A stretcher was coming,
her body they were carrying;
Pale, limp, and bleeding.
When is October?
Where she took a drive.
When in October,
She died.

October 14th
-2006-
10:14 pm
The line count is significant.
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