BIG HOLIDAY ISSUE

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he got poetry
while watching the movie
in her shoes

my fucking
big
fat
heart
broke in two

when he looked at me and said
you know that poem
don't you

~anon


















As the winter

becomes colder, I begin to laugh
that this subtropical paradise is
freezing us all...scarves, coats, hats
the fragile oranges, strawberry plants

I remember in the oldest houses,
how the heat didn't work, the fifties
in Central Fl, lakes nearby frosted,
and pipes frozen and plants withered

Now, in this small idealic place near the river,
One unit heats all and my cat sleeps warm.

I bring in hibiscus, and herbs, and they crowd
the kitchen with green towering selves

I sip hot wine and listen to orchestras of past
I remember how small a thing, a pair of gloves
can be when standing in the cold no matter where

And how kind of stupid this poem is, but really don't care.


~entering the desert







i have a house
full of male. helicopters
in miniature, sleep
in the closet. the brown
grass of winter. suzy,
it still stings me
with wonder our shared
childhood spaces
lakes of central
florida. orange scented
hands gathering dusk- magic .
corncakes for dinner . fire's glow,
insecticide fog, our loom.

~trashpo







Dyed hair
blonde I'm still
green

~venus jones



thank you, celestial dream





dec 1


on my sheet
a new blood stain
heart-shaped

snow
in blacktop cracks


~tasha klein
















but the church bells have gone underground
and so have the moles,
religerosity rolls
down the holes
in drolls
to the tolls
the tolls
the tolls,
bankrolls.

~chels













Hi you ,

on the way
I thought of one
does this
count?

I left
chocolate(:
in the car

~shirley buckland

old stuff, thank you.

beyond el dia de las muertes issue

hannah linden






The Skull Ring

~ tasha klein

i don't want to
wake your eyes

i don't want to feel them
travel
around my corners
to touch the hole
in my chest
its dark graffiti
and red sugar
even redder
next to your pale skin
.















forced freedom
the grindance
~htc








met at the tip

of a fjord
calving to cleavage


in cinnamon bars of heat.

i miss your blues
like sky, a frozen
reflection

in contrails
crisscrossed, plaided, plaited
braids begging for pull






so you pull,

separate,


flee


~ trashpo




courtesy of luis gonzalez palma














Anonymous said...

left hand
thumbnail inked black
index & up yrs & ring
inked w/ peace, pinky is an eye
watching




Gerardo Suter










the sabal palm with a pharmacopia of almosts.


i didn't want it
but it seems
to mean a lot to you.

magnetism and resonance
in the gym cracked dawn.
we had a seventh hole pool
break planned but the owners
were home and you
couldn't slice the ball
if you'd been in a deli.
or dili or new delhi.

there's ghosts of a past
you'd rather be
in hanging around. i's dotted,
t's crossed & just in time
for jesus to mount his throne.

bright flash. high wind strikes hard.

you're immortal. nothing you can do about it.




sally mann






six word poem

i'll never do that again, promise.








why do they call
them
one night
stands
when you spend them lying
down?


vinilio du ule








the most insane of solids


kinetically frozen
liquid, glass
lacks long-range

crystal


line


order the most
disordered


types
of solid








known.















the usness of the nothing ness



jose manuel castro prieto


~anonymice














from a so called flower


The words yield
two hands


----


thirty pink orchids
only sleeveless shirts
one heart


----


sowing suffering
will never reap
acceptance


----


orange has a shelf life
the tide is no ceiling fan
and even now


jeff brouws











moccachino

you're just another
mother-fucking
son of a bitch
trying to claim ownership
trying to tell me what I should do
think
how I should live my life
thinking I give a shit
thinking your opinion
matters to anyone
take a look around buddy
everyone's just drinking their coffee
same as any other day

- Rae Pater


jerry ueslmann

thanks ya'll

be sure to submit for the next issue, above....

the rube goldberg issue

did i ever look like i wanted
to be someone alone?




















Into the washing machine

I've never really minded that
feeling like cascading into
uncertain futures or all the
hours spent sleeping within
sunbursts of diverging
clarity. Oh, yes

I am
quite
myself
today.

--Pharasyte







--steve curtis










what is the
'fell of dark'?

scanning the edge

or just
forgetting to log out?






important physics








razer

cut the ciggy butt, the lonely blank skin, where underneath a city with blue millions run? or maybe a worm, who will grow a new heart, dark as soil, rich as dirt. or the extra s in cheeks smiling wearing dimples thin? i would like to if possible change, 'dirt' to 'blood'


--Tasha_Klein








prairie light









Anonymous said...




sunset


hang me
she said, so i
did. upside down, pulling
her hair out of her face so she
could see.

i had
a scrunchie, tied
red tresses in a bun
redder yet from her heart runs
her blood.

alone
she hangs alone
i left her there, her hair
entwined with other carmines like
my love


















Anonymous said...
love is not

a blue cell
all greasy with who should be calling who

love is not
how much can you send/spend

love is
getting pissed off because you no longer have his version of
I Wanna Be Your Dog

& can't bounce off of his words
to write things you actually like and keep

guarded

















A nonymous said...


i don't understand
why you want to take magic
out of my world.

you have your own box
stuff it full of doubt.

or discovery. it's
about point of view--spell
me some miracles from the moon.






























chopsticks

there are good lines
in there, like mushrooms
among noodles















Anonymous said...

What the dream holds

a sieve holding water, with damp
traces of a kind of passage

so I wake, without clues
just a taste of something having
been there, dry and bitter on the tongue

Life, no rain barrow,
usually, holds only a glimpse

2

two red birds darting
above the cat watch
your glass of wine
held by the stem
in the late afternoon light

soon the dark and whispering
memories, crunch of leaves
closing the door on the day






bored?

submixions

northern lights /stealing from work issue

Sometimes constellation dust
gets mixed in with the human dust
and
mankind gets to touch the hem of the stars


-William Blackford






















Something solar, darkly shimmering

part wind, part portal

erodes my skin with

the sweetness of light

And as parts of me are undone

found again by the eyes of a beam of sun

Time's hand lifts what is no mere dust,

but crushed essence set free


And I can feel Earth's atmosphere escaping

and in its wake I will no longer touch ground

as the opening swirl of clouds

will lift me infinitesimal

a single shape of rising motes

asleep

reborn


-William Blackford














--courtesy of artist tbork of the HIPblog

good is the lesser of two evils

it's distasteful to be good
i feel better when i'm bad
but i'm not good at being bad
not good enough at being bad

good is the lesser of two evils

by hector the crow

another crow poem



ayahuascero

somewhere, spirit

is alive, despite

the quick metabolism

the slash and burn mentality

that chavez would assume
i'd assume
to maximize

when there's a goal
there's a compromise
there's a lot of compromise
A lot of comprimise. Comprende?


lotta comprimse, to achieve
weird lettering, that
i wanna let the lettering
AND the letting
kinda bloodlet
and nevermind the kerning
weird winter, sure we got snow
rock warmth, vancouver east
and you got, i dunno
i won't care




































Anonymous said...


soul rope

drink this
she said so i
did. next thing i knew i
woke up next to myself, climbing
goodbyes





















Anonymous said...
From Warm Thing to Napkin


my beautiful light -

love me,

lost and strange.

dreamtime issue

three small poems by Rae Pater



Gone



What is there to write of you
now that you're gone?

That you come to me in dreams
and we sit, face to face,
legs folded together,
cuddled round each other,
and talk like happy children -
words tripping impetuous -

till I waken to that old
twelve hour, sixty minute clock
at my bedside.




























The Blonde in Me



lip freak,
shirtless and hands on knees.

if I roll up my eyes
and purse my brunette charms

will you scoop a kiss or two
into my pinny?






















Eden's Poems



each verse so precise

like apparently random
windings of vine
and flower

shaped to form
a small
hand-carved
elephant

a miracle of creation
and inside it another
and yet another






{C)Rae Pater














hermit faces south


i do
not know this life-
camaraderie, these
people and i do not think i
want to


--anonymous












from tasha klein




- death - i taste your black
pill - the lips behind - your dove -


















from burning moon


I had a small poem -
words soft, like candles
after mass