HAIKU FOR I KNOW WHO

by Tom Atkins

Latex dress, hair's a mess.
Drives me macadamia.
You know, don't you?



The Second Half

by Allison Eir Jenks

Take me from this self-duel.

I left behind a mess each time.
Too many places to repair
before I'll be sure about my face.

There are days I hate my body.
Ripped apart in spells
With everyone I've loved
alone, holding onto strangers.

Lost in how neat things are.
I don't want to feel too well on talk.
I use it up and don't look at myself, grown.

There've been too many places to leave -
I never learned right.

Enough taught me I can't die alone.
Still, I may not worry who I die with.
As far as they could open me up,
I leave to let them learn me.

If I let you experience me now
You will get only half of me;
storms and earthquakes.

So much a thing I've forgotten,
I'll die flushed in any case.



COD

by Thor Loeurdahl

Cod.
Ling.
Cod, I love it.
Three dorsal fins.
Two anal fins.
Bottom feeder.

Cod. Ling. Coddling Cod.
Cod. Swing. Codswing Cod.
Twelve kilos.
Wham. Break a head.
Wham. Break another.
Two anal Fins.
One fish.
Good day's work.
Cod, I love it.



A Leak In The Roof

by Allison Eir Jenks

Perched on the kitchen counter reading,
conscious of where her children are in the yard.
At six her husband comes home, goes upstairs
to his study, turns up the music louder than his own voice.

The only light are three lamps by the mirror.
He wipes dust off the wine bottle,
grips the glass rough, drinks it lazy,
files his day in the bureau and locks it.

Folding tablecloths she
seals the air with her laugh.
Laughing at nothing
but a childís slippery cartwheel
through the frost of the window.

Laughing at herself and the tub
of chili on the stove,
she puts an extra fist of salt in.
Will he hear her this time?
Will they talk about it in front
of the children?

Will they talk at all today
about why she cut her hair herself?
Will he taste the salt?
Does he feel his own tongue?

One day she hid his only pair of shoes
to see if he'd leave without them.

He left barefoot with a hole in his raincoat.



A FRIEND IN NEED

by Tom Atkins

A friend in need
is never needy enough
when you need
to be needed
so badly that you knead
the dough of your neediness
until it rises.
But love keeps you needing,
and kneading,
until the risen dough falls,
useless,
limp,
and rejected.



The Draught

by Allison Eir Jenks

Our yard is a mystery, everyone who walked there
must have seen something about us that we don't.

There is never enough armor to screen our lies.
The heart of this house is beyond its time.

We may as well leave the curtains open.
Now I'm sure you have to tell me why

the windows are smaller than my eyes
and the draught so heavy it freezes ideas.

Though there are still places
my insides walk no matter
who tells me not to go,

I hear myself laughing
in fresh doorways looking off ceilings
telling people why it has to be this way.

All the direction I gave you
I forgot what it was I said.

Can't you see nobody cares
how much time it takes you to get here.
Nobody's sure what they think anymore.



THE CLIFF

by Samuel Beckett

Window between sky and earth nowhere known. Opening on a colorless cliff. The crest escapes the eye wherever set. The base as well. Framed by two sections of sky forever white. Any hint in the sky at a land's end? The yonder ether? Of sea birds no trace. Or too pale to show. And then what proof of a face? None that the eye can find whenever set. It gives up and the bedlam head takes over. At long last first looms the shadow of a ledge. Patience it will be enlivened with mortal remains. A whole skull emerges in the end. One alone from amongst those such residua evince. Still attempting to sink back its coronal into the rock. The old stare half showing within the orbits. At times the cliff vanishes. Then off the eye flies to the whiteness verge upon verge. Or thence away from it all.



Veiled

by Allison Eir Jenks

The places you walk I will never walk as they were.
All I have is how things seem off your face.

Sleeping over the sounds of our bones
and the haze of our surface
You removed the burrs from skin
without cutting it.

Will I know the parts that came from you -
the screams of my blankness you made fresh.

There are voices only you can talk to.
I dwell and save the scraps
of talks we should have finished.

Can we finish it now?

Do I leave you so much to see through?
I wait for you to tell me
that you know something silent in my body -
that youíve pressed your hands in it.

You can never get there again
though you won't forget where it is broken.
I reach back as your deadly air moves into me.

As if my prayers are made for dead of night,
I'm hearing myself all over the place.

My whole sound never lands.
But all these scattered places
Stretch me no further than you.



UNTITLED

by Chili B.

My dogs voice is not like mine.
Its ruffer and gruffer but I think its nice,
I think its fine.
It is not at all like a humans voice,
But I think it's fine.

My dogs skin is not like mine.
Its ruffer and tuffer but i think its nice,
I think it's fine.
It's not at all like a humans skin,
But I think its fine.



Who Gave Who How Many Whats?


by Allison Eir Jenks


Who Gave Who How Many Whats? I know you're at that corner bar
wearing the baseball hat that hides
the bald spots. I don't mind it
because it makes you look like a dad.

Did you leave your gun in the desk drawer
or did you load it up again and put more
money in the attic?

What's Johnny C. doing tonight?
And who gave who how many dueces
to take off who? Of course he's back in.

Sometimes I just wanted to have
a hamburger with you but someone
always had to sit by us and talk
over me. I was just "the daughter."

You're all I have now and I barely do.

I still can't believe we had grandpa's
funeral in the ball park and passed out
Cracker Jacks to the guests.
Did you have to end it
with the speech about Al Capone
then singing Take Me Out
To The Ball Game?

It's hard to rest and to be good.
People know about us.

There's a guy I'd like you
to have a drink with dad.
He's never been arrested
I think you'll like him anyway.

I don't want you to die before
my wedding, so watch yourself.
Sometimes I wished you believed in God.
That would be kind of funny.



UNTITLED

by cooldude

Do not tell your auntie Nelly
That her tire's from Pirelli,
'Cause there's somthing hot and smelly
Inside the center of it's belly.



Opening

by Allison Eir Jenks

Loneliness in your voice
carries you back
to your first drink of sea.

Snow was ready to have you.

Preparation;
You've forgotten to rise
with the height of your body.

You've left your spine
like an unswept floor.
Always looking out
to the rage of windowless rooms.

Your fingers
coarse enough to drown
the corridors of the female.
Sweeten yourself with her,
Swing into her cells.

Children are ready to hear you.

Dig into the fullness;
The hot cradles of a garden,
a laughing kitchen
with all of you there.

A busy day, opening



BLOWING TOWN

by Bubba Zane

There once was a girl from Nantucket.
When she moved, she decided to truck it.
She got a U-Haul
And had a real ball
When she got bored and opted to chuck it.



New Bodies

by Allison Eir Jenks

In our worlds, we are
Sleeping in new bodies
as we find old
parts to ourselves in the looks
of vanishing friends.

This world of yours
that I have never been,
I'm sure there's so much of you
on the streets in peoples' expressions.

In our words, we are sleeping
new in our bodies.

No matter who I talk to
I'm talking to you

Sure you know what I'm saying
or at least what I mean.

I'm thinking of us when
we were talking about how we
wouldn't remember most of this;
our lives, our quiet moments,
your laughter inside mine

And I'm wishing only that
we both were wrong.



UNTITLED

by Zoe Buck


My family has a computer
(actully we have about 7)
3 of them have the internet
my dad is always in heaven

First it started out simple
with black and white ribbons and DOS
but then came Windows and the modem
the computers seemed like the boss!

And here I am on the Internet
am I going crazy too?
But computers can be useful,
I think so, do you?

The Second Half

by Allison Eir Jenks

Take me from this self-duel.

I left behind a mess each time.
Too many places to repair
before I'll be sure about my face.

There are days I hate my body.
Ripped apart in spells
With everyone I've loved
alone, holding onto strangers.

Lost in how neat things are.
I don't want to feel too well on talk.
I use it up and don't look at myself, grown.

There've been too many places to leave -
I never learned right.

Enough taught me I can't die alone.
Still, I may not worry who I die with.
As far as they could open me up,
I leave to let them learn me.

If I let you experience me now
You will get only half of me;
storms and earthquakes.

So much a thing I've forgotten,
I'll die flushed in any case.





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