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 Aug 2015 andrea
untrue
life comes with ironies
fiction is too dull
like in some Hollywood movies
no one will know
of the man who saved the world
from winter and fire
Vasili Alexandrovich Arkhipov
unsung, radioactive, gone
theguardian.com/commentisfree/2012/oct/27/vasili-arkhipov-stopped-nuclear-war
funny thing is, there was also another time a man saved the world from the exact same danger: Stanislav Petrov. But he had some recognition afterwards.
 Aug 2015 andrea
Coop Lee
wet.
 Aug 2015 andrea
Coop Lee
i love/    the water.
gonna set my sights
on a sunny californian day.

thought of you,
oxytocin coursing the grooves of my brain.
and you/      in rising colors.

i love/     that.
that polyeurithmic song of again and again
our bodies.

dark parked cars.
neighborhood bedroom lights, on then off.
we continue/      in tongues.

i love/    the sand and scent
of life. of finding ourselves,
in ourselves.
previously published in the Camroc Press Review
http://www.camrocpressreview.com/2012/06/coop-lee.html
 Aug 2015 andrea
Coop Lee
mammalian
 Aug 2015 andrea
Coop Lee
i watched the slow death of MTV.
the music palace impaled and heaved
onto a coal-hot pyre of cool kid consumer trash.
pregnant teens, range rover birthday bonnets,
& ***** jungle-sweat challenges.

smoke the spirits of stolen leaves.
traverse the cineplex stairs and exits
glowing. mammoth screens,
with their long shadows, long teeth, long
celluloidal gods.
death to this too.

set a heap of old chairs and furniture on fire
in the backyard, hoping neighbors will gather
to drink and laugh. or at least one of them to yell
and grab you by the collar,
violently whistling.
wait and bleed.
recently published in The Bayou Review
 Aug 2015 andrea
Coop Lee
sawtooth
 Aug 2015 andrea
Coop Lee
there is a fire, somewhere.
the sun/sun making mad love to the mother earth like hey.
hey to the water,
hey to the waves,
           & all bits below.

            endless mad love.

& electric, sing the youth.
swung the tooth of photosynthetic children trickling like tributaries
into/onto/toward all worldly tufts.
prisoners of the wild.
prisoners of the city, yet swords of something like the heart.
           like an amber ale popped spare
& nowhere but up,
baby.

old cassette-tape
as bottleneck netting. this is
stellar
fishing.

            who’s wet khakis?

mine.

visitors from the great stars and lush.
tall nettle, tall tent-
city &
popping sap campfires. acid-
dropped and cooler cocked.
rekindle this
                bliss,
                cosmos.
 Aug 2015 andrea
Coop Lee
[sweet pungent synthesis]
always with dank hysterical women demonstrating the distilled liquid elixir of their many years in isolation.
they are the nitrogen-rich followers of an ultraviolet shrine, such is
a photosynthetic life-form, reacting/enacting/enhancing.
they reach for holes in the moon &
on four-legged fumes carbonize seeds into sons and daughters. birth/
life.
all flowers ache forth to display color and/or
their varietals of hairy oil content.
to dip psychotropics, thus the worship of brain frequency and light.
fresh progress,
the sugar crystal compounds impacting, intact, and swollen.
trichomes, like huddled little masses of grandbabies bowed upon the ridge.
she drips
in dance and derives her form from properties plucked by time,
by moms, and pops.
to discover is to find purity in a moment.
pure travel/ pure
death.
this growing force,
this apparition of sound within me. organics.
organisms bound by great beauty and failure.
sense not the vivid panic, or the shock of last black, but hold true
to an inner joyous/outer motionous, tessellation that is, this
fluttering of us.
us suit of hearts.
suit of leaves.
the fusion of two bodies far beyond substantial pressure.
 Aug 2015 andrea
Coop Lee
there is a camping trip planned and preserved
on the reservation of our hopes and dreams and summer sweet nothings. we
retreat upon an open-toed weekend, cooler gemmed
& ready.

there is a place in the mountains
& on that wooded ridge it is waiting to be seen and witnessed. lived
upon, lit upon,
seedling.

sure, i love you.
& sure, i’ll die. and that is forever.
& forever is -
no worry. no bluffs. no sweat.
because this life is right, and right now is everything.
yolk.
to become a bloom of love more than just words and digits and plays of
time. this time
is ours.

is good beer. great beer. &
the heat. the her. her soothes and sovereigns
on this land in which we live with the whole tribe and fun days.
we are our own dreams.
good dreams.

meet her on the shore of a river.
& she is listening and speaking and sung.
with an urge
to love and let begin.
take precedent. take my nettled little heart
and crackle like fire from it the nutrient of lonesome ode.
& from the strum of that
we begin.

we end.
we cog back into the existence of small time
small town nobodies. worked little we.
service and cinema.

thus
busting gut toward town and more weekends and more movement.
there is motion to this curve of time, kids.
curve of pages expressed
& exposed here in wayward traveled poems.
truths of some sort or hallucination. here
we daydream.
 Aug 2015 andrea
Art
Untitled
 Aug 2015 andrea
Art
Forgot where we met
But honestly since then
I fell for you
Now I'm here
Asking if you will be my valentine
Had fun meeting your mom
And some of your family
Now I ask you to be mine
Smiley faces when I text you
Don't linger on what they say about me
To be honest
Things happened before you
But now I'm trying to build something
Oh and before you say something
I really like donuts and oj
And you gotta feed me
If you say yes to me
Sorry but I'm one broke
College student
I've found out you
Don't really trust anyone
But I will work day in day out
Just for you to look for me
When you are having a horrible day
If you haven't notice I have a big crush on you
So what do you say
Will you be my boo?
 Aug 2015 andrea
Art
Untitled
 Aug 2015 andrea
Art
Dear crush
What exactly will it take for me
To have you
If you said yes to be mine
Will you be willing to share your food
With me
No worries about your parents approval because I know your mom loves me
I passed you a note
Yes or no
If I went by at 8
Will you be down to go out
Or will you diss me
Good thing I'm good with words
Because I can't spend much money
On you because well
It's no surprise that textbooks are expensive
One day I will make you mine
But until then
Know that Ive fallen for you
 Aug 2015 andrea
NV
hole °°
 Aug 2015 andrea
NV
MOST DAYS,
I FEEL LIKE A HOLE,*
*TRYING TO FIND A PLACE THAT WON'T **** ANYBODY ELSE INTO THIS EMPTINESS.
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