by Arlon

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

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

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

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

Jammin' - by Kelsey


Splatter steamy
poppling pot
blopping sticky
sugary hot.

Ladling jammies
simmering stop.
Cooling jewelies
lids go pop!

by Vera

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

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.