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Meaning and the MeningococcalMeaning and the MeningococcalMeaning and the Meningococcal
Upon long walks from the working shop I would observe strangers draped in canopy, in tablecloth, in ridicule, but mostly in love.
noticing that everything dances, and everything tastes like plump purple raspberries. that we are brought up on table manners and grade schools and the occasional scrapping of our knees.
she was brought up
on antibiotics- and jesus.
*
ripe golden-rich sun scorched skin- I would turn door knobs with pa
by ~seeyouinjune
How We Need DurabilityI urge time along - rampant flock of clouds in the sparse sky - spilled like vanilla overHow We Need Durability
Martinborough vineyards
the night I feel a grip on my radish mouth from old seed lips,
raw and pliable as ginger.
I run around the prickled frost, lifting grief and dread, the gathered skirts around my hips of scrunched black cotton, mashing through the thin high weeds -
while those we don't speak of like long drip-stains have hardened
on the windowsill, white lacquered.
I push time along, but I strain it back; through my pursed
by ~ottersandsky
Anagrams in the airThieved by mouth-envelope; my phonicsAnagrams in the air
caged in alphabet-zoos,
my heart-hospital swirling with apiaries, as I wait outside a name.
If I could eventually say anything at all, I’d tell you how you loom secret heuristics inside those delta-pyramids
that snack on your pupils.
I’d tell you I’d bleed out the world’s cathedrals in weight, to say anything that sparked a star in the quiet knock of your night.
I’d scratch the larks from the
by *NightGrid
shiv'ah.shiv'ah
Our feet bled from seashells under the lighthouse stove light beaming raccoon streaks in saltwater sky. We looked all night, where the bottle glass was licked smooth; we pulled seaweed from whalebone ribcages calling it her hair dissected from a comb. The soul is the lamp of god Ve’imru omeyn
Mother walked backward into the ocean the morning I married that siren-eyed boy. The blood orange
segmented on ashwood tabletop: I’ll see a sunset running-juice tucked between your lips, spilling into cupped hands.
by ~WhoKilledKirov
I Live In A City of MonstersI live in a city of dinosaurs. They stand still. And pretend to be structures of steel and drywall. But I know the truth. They breathe And blink When everybody is focused on trafficI Live In A City of Monsters
And tabloid scandals And the incompetent coffee-boy mixing their frothy rush-hour drinks.
I live in a city of crying geese. They moan like sinners. But I know better. They're all just faking it to ward off the gunmen. I envy their longevity: I went hoarse three weeks ago And I'm surprised I'm not dead yet.
I live in a city of reanimated fossils, Whe
by ~scribblesound
EveThey said EveEve
ate a pomegranate.
My fingers bleed
from the places the knife slipped, lost its grip along the tough skin of fruit. I have fought against the fleshy armor, plunging
deep, penetrating nothing.
These seeds are not
mine to know.
How she must have
struggled, ripping and tearing
in lustful fury, chunks of crimson
pulling up under her nails, digging
into the white womb until it split. How the fruit must have
spilled, little living catacombs bursting
forth, rotten at the center, maggots writhing out
by ~RevolutionnaireRouge
Reflection.fuck. next to the haunted lake with mirror-ocean eyes, muttering as it watches our whispers, hears our stifled cries in the dark.Reflection.
We know.
Morning comes with a weak peering sun, hesitant fingers brushing the edges of the sky. I sit
with my legs in the water, watching you pack your bags and drive on home, rattling by in your cherry red car that shatters
the blue miasma hanging like a ghost across the lake, a fog that rolls across the reeds. Ripples stream away from my knees.
I write letters in the air to my lover back home in
by ~chew-on-that
Our Midnight FlowerI rest my eyes upon this flower, With its sharp and stabbing thorns, Entice me at this midnight hour.Our Midnight Flower
Vines climb up this endless tower, For my lost lover I do mourn, I rest my eyes upon this flower.
Spirits hold me with such power, Stems are broken, leaves are torn, Entice me at this midnight hour.
Rain falls down in heavy showers Wash away my seething scorn I rest my eyes upon this flower
Reciprocate my hero’s valor, Of which this flora’s essence borne, Entice me at this midnight hour.
Early morning’s dew drops sour &
by ~starkreality
Mural In The GlassFall once fell in colors here, you could hear the rust whistle on playgrounds,Mural In The Glass
merry go rounds still spinning,
swings still swinging from the hurried departure.
But they are sounds of another time.
Today
my reflection
is lost in the grey
as rain falls a
by ~Moonbeams
Will you apply to be on staff?
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News
- 16 Poetry Feature #122 - Nov 8, 2009
- 19 Poetry Feature #121 - Nov 1, 2009
- 20 Poetry Feature #120 - Oct 25, 2009
- 17 Poetry Feature #119 - Oct 11, 2009
- 22 Poetry Feature #118 - Sep 20, 2009
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Your the guys the featured and suggested ~Satah!
Well bloody done!
great work <3
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