EPIPHANY'S VOICE

by Tim

2011-08-04T20:49:00.000-07:00

Dumbledore's Army - by Tim

What kind of sillyass
juxtapositional oxymoron
declaration
is that on Tony's car?

Armies aren't peace.

This whole HP thing
is pretty damn violent,
if you ask me.

Even with elves and wands
and horcruxes
instead of fighter jets.

Even with British accents -
well, look at James Bond.

Violent.

Even with kickass wizardgirls
with freaky first names.

Okay, Granger was pretty cool.
And Hagrid was a humongous
soft-o-hearted godfather.
And Harry,
he actually pulled it together
at the end.

An army.

Violent,
because armies are,
I guess.

Fight for peace?
Sounds backwards.

What was the alternative?

I'm in.

by Terese

2011-04-17T18:58:00.000-07:00

What Boys Don't Know - by Terese

One helluvan old bathroom
this place has.

Dea says,
Ever seen one of these?

Standing next to it,
I google the name
on the metal machine
and it's ancient.
Modess isn't even a company
I can find.

Modess?
Like "modest?"
Right here in the public restroom?

Dea digs in her purse
and puts a dime in.
Nada.

Pads. Ugh.
Who uses them?

Oh.
Dea.

I never knew that!

We're laughing,
elbowing each other,
and in walks
this tall pinch-nosed witchwoman in black heels.
We tumble out the swinging door,
snorting.

What boys don't know.

Boys get to pee on the toilet seat.

Girls have to deal with
pads and cramps
and moods.

What boys don't know
is how embarrassing it is
to even have
feminine products
for sale
in the restroom.

And if we'd really needed one,
we would have
lost our money
and been running home
to change jeans.

by Li

2011-03-25T06:46:00.000-07:00

InsideLaughingOut - by Li

Standing outside the shop,
reality and reflection fuse.

If I stare long enough
I don't know
which is inside,
which is out.

The lady is like me.

I am not a reflection
but acting
in a glass box,
the world pasting itself on me.

And do I keep on laughing?

I do.

by Janet

2011-02-06T16:04:00.000-08:00

The Huddle - by Janet

Here it is, folks,
the Big Game!

Fans huddled in their TV room
chowing tacos
watching
players huddled in their shoulder pads
who are doing all the
exercise.

And look out the window!
We've got
Southern California, here!

Sunny
breezy
seventy-five degreezy
and
no referee!

Enjoy your from-the-can queso dip.

I've touched down
on the beach.

by Josefine

2011-01-21T10:45:00.000-08:00

Buddha and Mary - by Josefine

How far I have come,
thinks Buddha,
from
one without excess
to
this bulging largess,
a slick trinket sold for paperfied gold.

How far I have come,
thinks Mary,
from
one humble virgin
to
this other version,
promoting my grace with a furry blue face.

There they are.

Standing together.

Glistening belly
and
solemn soft fuzz.

Neither quite ready
for the is
from the was.

by Daco

2011-01-06T18:45:00.000-08:00

Celebrat'n da New Year - by Daco

Dat's what ahm talkin bout.

Red slop
cat-sup
dat Toe-maaay-toe jazz.

All shiny
in a bitty paper cuppa thing,
ready for it
ready for it
but naw
you gotta waaaaait
cause da burger ain't up yet.

And da burger's job,
see,
is to
transport
d'important
stuff.

Red slop.

Sometimes at home,
right outta bottle,
open wide.

Where's dat burger?

Slop me.

by Kevin

2010-10-11T15:23:00.000-07:00

GHOULS - by Kevin

Jenner's house.

Pretty impressive,
tp'ing a tree that size.

Thing is,
Jenner's sister Lacey
said she saw
me and Copeland
do it
and told her parents.

But it isn't true.

Or,
I didn't do it,
but Copeland was bragging
all over school
that he did.

My name got
added in to the story somehow
but I don't know why

and I can't prove I wasn't
where I really was
at midnight last night

which was
in my room
reading an old MT Anderson novel
by my camping headlamp.

Now I have to apologize
to Jenner's family
and help Copeland
take all that shit down from that huge pine.

I don't even know
if Copeland really did it,
or
the ghouls are out early
this year.

But I'm pissed at all of them.
The ghouls,
Copeland,
and
especially Lacey,
who I thought
liked me.
She even gave me a high-five
after football practice
Tuesday.

But now she got me
grounded.
And I'm not allowed
to play football for
two days.

Maybe girls are ghouls.

by Lena

2010-09-13T21:06:00.000-07:00

The Fog of Farronbrook - by Lena

With fall comes fog,
this morning faster than before,
that wet monstrous maw of Farronbrook
sucking in and out
in great greedy breaths,
dippling all in its path,
dead grass,
old garden kale,
my lashes,
as I stand in my pajamas
cursing the sop and rot
of this place that is not
Wildlight Island,
the delicate song of summer.

by Lassi

2010-06-28T07:26:00.000-07:00

Summah - by Lassi

It's here!
Finals done,
graduation for Ari and Tina,
can't find a job yet -
-oh well-
lolling by the pool by myself
in last year's bikini,
sweet tea,
freshcrunching corn
raw on the cob,
warding off sunsparkles
with a draping hand,
a good book,
a second good book
standing by,
free to gently blend
into the gathering haze
of chlorine.

by Ella

2010-06-20T15:51:00.000-07:00

Tooth of Lion - by Ella

Nosy bee-ahtch neighbor
and her nasty comments.

She left a note on my car -
- my car!
to say we should be ashamed
of our yard,
the worst on the block,
"at least mow the weeds!"

Well now,
look at this beautiful
gossamer silk puff,
this wistful
delicata
life-package.

Who wouldn't keep such
a gorgeous
thing?

And get rid of the neighbor?

by Vera

2010-05-25T09:56:00.000-07:00

Another Step with the Flame - by Vera

She held it aloft,
the sparking torch,
tripping forward
through schist
with moments of trepidation
and obvious frustration
and love
and persistence
and humorous castration.

Another edit done.
A magnificent feat.

And now
for some dark chocolate
and gardening.

by Thalia

2010-05-17T21:16:00.000-07:00

Oy! Big big big deadline coming up for my next novel, so you will hear naught from me in the next two weeks. Notice I'm not even tryin' to make this poetic? Middle of next week I will be working simply in grunts and hand motions. Words will be gonzo......

See you in a bit! Keep stopping by!

~Thalia

by Jill

2010-05-10T10:46:00.000-07:00

Farming - by Jill

The worst frickin thing
you can be told to do
when you are
already
angry
is "Weed the beans."

But Mom's particular ferocity
sent me out
to the hammering sun,
where I sat on my butt
scootching downrow
as I pulled tiny leaflets,
and dontcha know,
two hours later
riding the rhythm of the earth
I didn't mind
the ant on my ankle
the sweat on my neck
the way Jessup taunted me that
I was going to fail French.

Mothers are so
right.

2010-05-02T21:48:00.000-07:00

Mocker Perspective - by Lynne

Difficult to balance
yourself
with that.

Difficult to be on watch,
swiveling your head
with a branch that big.

Difficult to sing
so intricate a melody
with a branch that big
slanting from your beak.

Or maybe just
difficult
if you are not a mockingbird.

by Vera

2010-04-27T08:27:00.000-07:00

Call Back Tomorrow - by Vera

There it is
spewed over the desk,
papers and sticky notes and adjectives,
all chasing each other
in parabolic paths
so she can
congeal it
mold it
soothe it
before deadline
into a novel.

And it's all about me.
Hah!

by Cara

2010-04-13T11:11:00.000-07:00

Really Big Maybe Stinkbug - by Cara

I'm not touchin it!
Marco says that
Brianna says that
her brother got stank up by that bug,
and I don't know
what it's real name is
but it's for sure
a real stink bug.

If you touch it
it lifts up its butt and
sprays you
like Presto's gang did with the fire hydrant
last summer,
only stinkier,
Marco says,
stink like burning tires and dog puke.

Careful!
It's walking this way!

Sure is big.
And shiny black
like someone's been buffin him.
Like Sancho does on his duelly.

Kind of pretty.

Well,
I don't know if
it's for sure that bug
like Marco says,
but I'm not chancin it.

You touch it.

by Marvo

2010-04-03T08:16:00.000-07:00

Blockhead - by Marvo

So her dad asked me to come over,
right?
and lay some block with him.

And I don't know anything about
laying concrete block,
but it's Lorna's dad,
right?

So I am saying yes
without thinking,
and we plan for today
and I borrow leather gloves
from DeVito
and I'm pretty on top of it all,
because I get to spend the day
around Lorna,
working and helping her dad.

But when I drive up,
he tells me
Lorna's upstate for the weekend
with her older sister.

And then he sends me home,
right?
to change into jeans
instead of
shorts.

I don't know what I'm doing.

And I've gotta do it
my whole
Saturday.

by Thalia

2010-03-11T14:37:00.000-08:00

Forgive me, forgive me! I am remiss in my bloggation duties.

Deadline looms for book #2 and I am entranced, entrenched, and entangled.

Beware the Ides of March!

(Stay tuned next week, I'll be back....)

~Thalia

by Hammond

2010-02-21T20:35:00.000-08:00

Mighty - by Hammond

Soggy here
dribbling rain
down my sweatshirt neck.

But that's normal for me
usually.

I'm here in the dank
to escape thoughts of Jeneva
Jeneva
Jeneva
who didn't say yes
when I asked
Jeneva
Jeneva
and it scares me that
I really thought
she might say yes.

So I came here
in the dank
to smear out my delusions
with slug slime and drips
down my sweatshirt.

But I found
I found
this beautiful thing,
yes, I said beautiful,
this strong bursting mushroom
perfect white
with gills like a new filter
pushing up a mound of earth
all by itself.

And look at where a mushroom comes from.

So I'm feeling
better
already.

by Vera

2010-02-07T20:24:00.000-08:00

La Toilette - by Vera

So I figured out why
there's a one-holer out back.

My indoor toilet clogged on day II.

When I went outside to find roots
grappling with the pipe
emerging from my cabin,
I backed away.

One thing I know is camping.

Compost toilets are easy.
Throw a little scrub and dirt
on top of your ahems
and voila -
very little stink.

The outhouse hasn't been used in decades,
dry as coprolite.

So the only thing upset
by my new process
is Grandfather Lizard
who lives below the hole.

Nasty shock for him this afternoon,
after that can of refried beans
got through me.

by Andira

2010-01-25T09:53:00.000-08:00

Measurements - by Andira

So much taller than I,
longer arms
could wrap me twice,
lean far down to kiss me,
if you would kiss me.

So much older,
probably wiser,
not so hard to be,
teach me,
teach me,
lean far down.

So much stronger,
grounded
unlike me,
walking in yellow
walking in innocence,
lean far down to kiss me,
if you would kiss me.

by Gina

2010-01-17T09:40:00.000-08:00

Razor - by Gina

Waiting for you
lays down dryer lint felt
inside my heart
layer
by
layer
cushioning
muffling my heart beat
slowing my heart rate

and blue with cold
I get out the blade
to scrape clean.

The old edges look dull
till you put them
to skin.

by Laney

2010-01-04T09:19:00.000-08:00

Jungle Jim Education - by Laney

I think that I shall never see
graffiti as eloquent as thee

Not only are you educating me
you educate most hypocritically

playground defacing
is
intelligence erasing.

But then again, using permanent Sharpie
with urethane acrylic resin markie

Might mean to say you are pro-insolubles
in which case your medium was perfectly optimals.

by Andrew

2009-12-17T07:00:00.000-08:00

SMALL WORLD - by Andrew

Well, I don't agree.

I think the world is pretty damn big,
big enough that everyone I know
is going somewhere else
for the holidays
and I
am
stuck
at
Disneyland,
which I get into free
because Mema works here
and she uses it as a babysitter
even though I am old enough
to walk to school
with Dustin and Egger.

I hate this fake world.

But if I sit and really look,
the small world Christmas lights
are pretty.

by Vera

2009-12-01T06:45:00.000-08:00

Stumbling Rumpled - by Vera

Rumpled
like this dead land of rubble.

Rumpled
like the beliefs
quaking
in folds of my brain.

Rumpled
like Lon-scented blankets
on his bed
in the trailer.

And stumbling this morning,
from
Emma's feather-fine pale blond hairs
on the other pillow.

by Kaitlin

2009-11-16T17:50:00.000-08:00

Crochet Guerrillas - by Kaitlin

We scoot in at sundown,
flashlights in our teeth,
to wrap chill metal
in a pre-measured cuff of wild warmth,
whipstitching up the side to secure,
snip-snip
top it with Mae's freaky failed glove,
and shrieking with glee
we pound around the corner
to Jamie's waiting Jetta,
squealing
laughing
gone.

Softening the urban landscape
one cold post
at a time.

by Javier

2009-11-08T18:16:00.000-08:00

Last Laugh - by Javier

You taunt me, sukka
from away over there
on the sidewalk.

You think it's funny?
You think I look crazy
with mold and leaking dying juices?
Step closer, sukka.

Step closer, I'll tell you
what it means to laugh
at the only jack-o-lantern
left on the street.

Closer.

I'll breathe my putrification on you,
you laugh at me.

Your skin starts to peel
your nose will melt down
alongside your mouth,
blackening teeth,
jawbone exposed,
goop running south from your eye sockets...

Alright get outta here
before I bite your ankles.

Sukka.

by Thalia

2009-11-02T18:27:00.000-08:00

Influenza has rendered me imaginationless for the moment.

Tune in soon for more from the voices, who are suspiciously waiting patiently in line for the virus to finish its dirty work...

by Deyna

2009-10-27T10:47:00.000-07:00

Trapped Pictsy - by Deyna

Welted glass tears layering her cheek,
she silent made.

Permeating wing sweat,
spraying wide,
she flapping so hard.

Skin oozing poison,
she transforming to hate.

by Jimmy G.

2009-10-21T20:36:00.000-07:00

Invasion of the Kingdom - by Jimmy G.

Ant brigade marching
around the toilet -
I lean over from my throne
squishing-squish-squishing
as fast as I can.

by Ellory

2009-10-12T11:56:00.000-07:00

Pumpkin Tossers - by Ellory

Well if you ask me,
I think
pumpkins are
big fat porky
emotionless
beings
without a waist.

Like me.

I'm dying for these guys
to drop just one.

They haven't yet.

by Markus

2009-09-28T06:57:00.000-07:00

Breakfast - by Markus

Picking up Su for the morning meet,
and this
is what she was eating.

"You eat rice and soybeans for breakfast?"

She stood back
so I could snap the photo.

"Not always," she said,
elbows out,
swishing her hair into a pony tail.

"Usually rice and vegetables."

She started wolfing it down,
one sneakered foot
facing out from her chair,
ready to run.

"Rice sure is funny breakfast food," I muttered,
leaning on her counter,
watching.
Trying to keep my eyes
from the smooth
Asian thigh.

"Yeh," she spat, laughing,
"like the cold anchovy pizza you ate
was breakfast!"

Dumping the edamame skins
in the compost,
Suki flicked a piece of rice
at me,
a tiny sticky smack in the cheek.

She laughed and brushed the grain
from my face,
a cool sweep
on my flush.

"Let's kick their asses today!"
she cheered,
and was out the front door
before
me.

by Dylan

2009-09-21T15:22:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday, H.G. Wells - by Dylan

Hours of shooting
hours of screams, snot and lisps
on the playground.

They called it a 'shadow assignment'-

half the afternoon
spent in a standing camera cramp,
thinking I was getting something
perfecto.

And then I download.

And all I can think is,
aliens.

Disembodied
sinuous shapes
with levitating balls and rings.

Little beings from Mars.

And damn.
They are.

by Vera

2009-09-13T14:01:00.000-07:00

Spying - by Vera

Crouching here
spying in on the Boys,
I am suddenly counting
how many
days of desert
I've scraped through -
have I worked for them a whole month?

I am raw,
like I've been itching
scratching on a cheese grater,
still
not trusting Lon
still doing crunches to make sour stomach
subside.

Hunkered in the scrub
with a crackling breeze at 6 am,
I spit out bile,
pissed off.

At Lon.
The Boys.
Tilly, Milo, Dempsey especially
the whole frickin mining town,
Carole, the Motherload,
maybe Amy,
yes, Amy.

Pissed off.

At myself.

by Aubrey

2009-09-06T20:19:00.000-07:00

Manduca sexta - by Aubrey

Ms. Pellium's Solanaceae
are deranged,
devoured
demolished,

first by one
then by three,
and today
by many
too many Manducas
of four inch length,
fifth digit girth
(but squishier.)

The Administrators of Mastication,
leave branches denuded,
inflorescences demoralized,
till
lycopersicon esculentum
lies barren,
feeble.

Fruitless.

Ms. Pellium is tomato sauceless,
due to those
Manducas,

machinators of
end
l
e
s
s
frass.

by Clarissa

2009-08-30T14:35:00.000-07:00

Mica Scales - by Clarissa

Low tide.
Miles of radiant silica.

Breathless,

breezeless.

I feel a dry rasping tongue
running up the shore

like a desiccating dragon -

End of Summer.

by Thomas

2009-08-17T18:45:00.000-07:00

Bull - by Thomas

They're fake.

Look how green his face is.

Fake frogs.

Not even breathing.

On a real farm,

right?

they go and plant

fake frogs

by the pond.

Wait.

He blinked.

Did he?

C'mon frog,

blink again.

Blink.

Friggin' frog, blink.

He's not blinking.

He's fake.

Fake frog.

Look how green he is.

Fake.

He blinked!

He's real!

He's--

gone.

by Thalia!

2009-08-10T19:17:00.000-07:00

Hello, said the ghostly visage of the author...

Taking this week off, since I have just returned from the SCBWI conference in Los Angeles and am zooped out.

Tune in next Sunday...

by Philip

2009-08-02T19:29:00.000-07:00

I Wanna Be Back In Oregon - by Philip

My first visit to Uncle Craig's.

So cool, SoCal! I thought.

But we walked
two concrete miles
to find the Pacific,

and there it was,
pacifically laying there
flat as the pavement shore,

with the rumble of traffic
instead of the sound of surf,

all the freeway
at 30 mph,
looking at my
skinny white chest.

by Arlon

2009-07-27T20:37:00.000-07:00

Cat-Trapped - by Arlon

He's strolling round the pool
on freaky silent feet,
little slitted eyes,
a sneaky flailing tail,

and I back into the corner
almost in the scratching branches,
no, don't see me,
just go by me,

but he bee-lines for me,
tail up like a spraying skunk,
and sits beside the drips
from the edge of my shorts,

content to stay awhile.

by Summer

2009-07-19T13:41:00.000-07:00

Little Sister - by Summer

"Bike with your sister round the block,"
and so we did,
but more brake
than bike
because Katie the Kollector
had to stop at every leaf
and stick
and feather
and place them carefully
in her front basket.

"What're you doing?" I demanded
every other stop,
maybe in a not-so-nice way.

"You'll see," she said happily.

And when we got home
she set up shop.
Carefully cut a piece of grape vine
with her snips,
got out twine,
a glass of water,
and sat there an hour,
creating.

"Ta-dah!" she said.

A Summer Wreath, she said.

"For my big sister," she said,
"who learned me biking."

All sniffling,
I hugged her,
and my wreath hangs
right next to the Jonas Brothers
on my bedroom wall.

by Vanessa

2009-07-13T06:36:00.000-07:00

Reaching for Tea - by Vanessa

In the cool and curling
stretching hour of morning,
modern slips of
light
shape objects,
sharp in quiet,
soft in distance,
and I am yawning
silent
wishing
no one else would ever wake
and stir this
slice of perfect.

by Rocco

2009-07-05T21:06:00.000-07:00

Escape to Planet Zoip - by Rocco

And the chlorophilic pods shall encapsulate us,
screen us from the
ultraphenolic rays of the binary stars,

White Permeation Fibers emitting our waste and
plumbing the atmosphere
for particles useful to our thrivation,

Ray Barbatons thrusting beyond the stratosphere
to intercept intruders
with weapons of might.

Although, of course,
our mission is to start life
anew,
in peace.

Despite the massive arsenal.

by Kelsey

2009-06-29T13:12:00.001-07:00

Jammin' - by Kelsey

Splatter steamy
poppling pot
blopping sticky
sugary hot.

Ladling jammies
simmering stop.
Cooling jewelies
lids go pop!

by Vera

2009-06-22T11:05:00.001-07:00

Blird - by Vera

I hate how
no matter what I do
she's way in the background
fuzzy and washed in my memory now.

I was thinking for a long while
that it was just because
immediate life is so sharp

that by comparison
Amy is distant,
indistinct,

but no.

Even if I focus on her
she's caught in haze
beyond
what is
life now.

Anger flames me
that I seem to be moving on,
my lens of life
trained on beef jerky and silent packages and
arguments with Lon and
this wind-scoured scrub and
a mining town
this far from what was home.

I still see her.
Amy fading like background.

But if I don't see her at all,
my sister'll really be gone,
and I can't let that happen.

So I'll keep my eye on the blurred distance
and remain angry.

by Effron

2009-06-15T06:36:00.000-07:00

Order - by Effron

Sequences
tightly wound round
arcing out
losing ground
charged with gold
guilty found
florets angry
bursting soundless
pollen chaos
shoved and tumbling
sidewalk bound
homeless landing
face down.

by Manny & Patricia

2009-06-08T07:00:00.000-07:00

Porsche - by Manny & Patricia

"She was hot once."

"She?"
He invited me here
to talk about another girl?

"The 914. The car."

Hot in the sun, maybe.

Hot like you are now.

Pale teal and lime green -
who knew they'd paint the inside
like that,
where no one can see it?

She's leaning in.
Inspecting the engine compartment.
She's really interested!

And the shadows waving over
the curves inside,
hash marks on the cords.
Ropes?
Cords.

"You know about electrical stuff?"

What is he talking about?
"Electrical?"

"The wiring."
She's wrinkling her freckles.
Love that.

"Cool shadow pattern."
I move my hands,
sprinkling lights-and-darks.

Damn.
What is she talking about?

He's running his work-rough fingers
through his dark hair again.

Hot out here in the driveway.

A halo around him,
the sun at his back.

Wrinkling her freckles at me.
Makes me wanna
take her face
in my hands.

I wonder what those hands
feel like.
On me.

by Patrick

2009-06-01T10:03:00.000-07:00

I Madonari - by Patrick

Well I'm not sure
what it is
I'm supposed to see.

A woman dead?
Posturing Native American?

I don't get this kind of art
much.
Huge colors
people stuck in poses
black furry background
like those velvet paintings in Grandda's garage

But it's not a painting.
It's chalk on pavement.

A festival of
hundreds of chalk drawings-

and I don't get why you spend
three days on a masterpiece
and let the fog come in and dull the edges
let cars park in the parking lot again
let dogs walk their people over it,
smearing all your work,

the sharp clouds holding the sky,
her smooth skin,
fabric folds,
one-by-one blades of grass,

and then it's gone

and you have to do it again next year
for the show.

Now that I'm really looking,
amazing.

But I still
don't get
that it's not
permanent art.

Or is that the point?

by Vera

2009-05-25T07:48:00.000-07:00

BBQ - by Vera

"Of course you're invited," he said
yesterday.

But Lon is chinking bottles round the grill
with Da Boys,
his back to me,
that wide-stance arms-folded rocking posture
guys all do together.

Oh, he gestured with his elbow
to the cooler of beers,
before sweeping gracefully
back again to the posse.

Hospitality at its shortest.

And sitting alone,
I find to my horror
I'm picking up pebbles and tossing them -
the ultimate in
"I'm Friendless" entertainment.

Time to take off,
before I flounder in the webbing
of his low-slung chair.

Stretching,
I fling one last rock
toward Lon's feet
and saunter away back down-trail,
whistling.

by Carly

2009-05-17T18:09:00.000-07:00

Jesusita Oranges - by Carly

They look like vivant orbs from space
resting on crushed cinders
of apocalypse,
these oranges in the ashes.

I wasn't here when it came this time
but oh lived through fire before,
snapping heated teeth,
flamedevil swirls seventy feet tall,
antithesis of thirst driving the gallop across gates and
swingsets and eucalyptus and
whole homes
to alight
here
here
and here,
leaving a green tree there
and there a wooden house unscathed by anything but
tender swirls of trailing smoke,
then back to torch the shed beside it -
or the house next door.

Brittany's house next door.

My house stands.
Brittany's is this -
chimney alone in a rectangle of saltandpepper crunch,
metallic winds and the strange scent of something sweet.

And I cry and curse the oranges
safe in their cheery skins,
aliens of the ashes.

by Kate

2009-05-09T18:59:00.000-07:00

Volleyball Photo - by Kate

High five
in black and white,
captures historical,
(recently allegorical)
teammates.

by Anke

2009-05-04T09:04:00.001-07:00

Launch Day - by Anke

Look at all these people
she knows.
All here for her
and maybe for me.

She's overwhelmed
I can tell,
and I think I'm overwhelmed too
because
I want to hide
or cheer and jump up and down
or throw up
but mostly
I'm grinning
from my spot at the top of the stairs.

We did it.
We are not furniture.

by Jen

2009-04-26T18:14:00.000-07:00

FIRST TOUCH - by Jen

Even right up close
you stand calm, eyelashes still,
nose breath wuffling soft.

by Hessa

2009-04-19T20:11:00.000-07:00

Wildflowers of Figueroa Mtn - by Hessa

My gawd
it's purple and orange everywhere
and it stahnks!
I thought this trip was wildflowers,
sighing
romantic
luxurious fields of waving petals,
wafting breezes -
but
screeching halt, man.

I'm not running through this scratchy scrub
like Maria
in Sound of Music.
If I did
I'd have to wrap
my bare legs in medical gauze,
check for ticks,
oh, and probably get a shot of anti-venom
for the chomp of the rattler
nestled in beside that rock.

Freakin 95 degree
dessicated
hellish
wasteland.

They say the flowers'll be gone next week.
Wonder why
they don't stick around.
Hah.

by Anke

2009-04-16T06:30:00.000-07:00

Pub Date - by Anke

It's here.

Repeating
repeating
that hidden life
repeating
inside that
solid
stack,

each book a block of wood shavings,
until someone opens
even just one
and sees me
on just one page.

Page 105,
for instance.

There I am.

In every book.

For everyone to read.

And maybe
exposure
might
be

good.

by Matthew

2009-04-12T18:04:00.000-07:00

CHARLIE'S GONE AGAIN - by Matthew
Pickin off rust
waitin for the 10 bus,
Charlie's gone again.

No buffalo jerky
no readin from that Hugo book
nobody throwin an arm over my shoulders
like he use to
because
Charlie's gone again.

Guess I'll figure out
my own algebra

Guess I gotta laugh out loud alone

Guess I'm gonna hafto walk
because the dang bus ain't comin
and
Charlie's gone again.