by Tim

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.