Monday, February 14, 2011

the giganitic how do i love thee issue


Jana Traboulsi







blogger chels said...

untold it
was delicious,

but all that's
left on lips
is the rubber flake
of

eraser wishes.

already all dissolved,
the sugar

on my tongue.






































Anonymous said...


sometimes

i wonder
who is who
in these
blue pixels
that
devour






































Blogger Brad said...

3:15
white
buttons floored
hard curves
Σ
3:29
pink
dew soft
autumn cloud






































Leo's Song from impactist on Vimeo.





















'Brunch'


she

sliced

one

tomato

while

the boy on the radio
sang about love

anonymous

























In Fairy Tales


we walk through our snowy world..

don't blink

why?

there are colder places in your eyes &
I want to catch them for the map

--Anonymous















meredith dittmar








































post-it notes

i am lost -
have you loved me
lately

~~~~

too late -
i'm going back
to hating
your

~~~~

if only i
believed
you -
i would surely love
you

~~~~

don't mind me -
i'm just your backseat
lover

~~~~

without my pussy
cat
i'm just a dog without
a bone

~~~~

when i’m gone
you’ll wish
i’d never told the
truth

~~~~

i said never -
and i’ll never say that
again

~~~~

i watch always now
the place
you left me behind

~~~~

you asked
for the truth -
i should have known
better

~~~~

you said you’d be
back
but never said when -
i wait, still

--alan itz








Pencil Vs Camera - 16

ben heine














the philosopher's stone

ramalinga turned into light
and tried to give it away

a recipe:

1) dissolution
2) a raven's head
3) albedo
4) a peacock's tail
5) distillation
6) a fixation
7) polish the stone with sun


sitting on the chaise
taking in light, she walks by
she's new
golden haired in the parking
lot an hour later

imagine pulling out
of the universe, then
diving back in.


































Affairs of the Heart


It is poetry
when the wind murmurs
Slav melodies in your ear

It is poetry
when your finger forms her name
on top of the water

It is poetry
when the thorn turns
to the pink of a rose

Poetry is
giving a name
to a river that separates us
and doesn’t exist

It is poetry
when the barb of the arrow
brushes to the side

the air molecules
at the surface of your forehead
and for a split

visual moment you read
on the tip of the arrow
I love you
as it pierces
your third eye
and heart

~~~


Alex Nodopaka January©2011
AD Something

















2 by
burning moon



sometime during the night
rain begins to gather

in misty sheets
wrap trees in gossamer halos

drift in starlit mantles
to cover the grass

cast a grey veil over strangers
wandering home from unknown nightlives

Mercury slides down the barometer
like a stripper down her pole

you cuddle behind me
like a blanket of sunbeams

and we watch the sun
burn night from the sky

--Rae Pater




















Missing Piece

I saw in you a place cut
to the shape of me
and thought I spied
finally
a place where I might fit

summer ends
where fading light
delineates
a paper cut in the sky
that almost fit
the shape of I











geof kern via le clown lyrique















a love match of opposites


Cancer woman & G mini man

I say

Hello

&

You say

Goodbye







Marc Hoppe via le clown lyrique













3 by blogger Tasha_Klein





User Friendly



please don't drink till I'm home


I'll call you from work


hit me when I come


you were upset


we sit in a coffin

I told you that your hair looks good,
5 times last nite!




































a broken space
in an empty room
far from town
under him
small as dust

or -

the slinky anagram
the forgotten password
a soft bullet
don't sleep yet
your crescent tracks
crack
his head

.




















I go to bed

wearing nothing

but

your cold weather

I see

into the window of my pillow -

you are sketching

my heart

in small circles


























gut wrench


: broken car

mum
holds, his
hand, until

: the end

--blogger brad




-geof kern

















blogger burning moon said...


In your hands I am made
and unmade. A tiny doll
spun in the circle of your eye.
Tucked in your dimple
the sparkle from my smile.
You feel like home to me.
Like the shore upon which
the sea arrives
at journey's end.



Cecile at the Seaside


lily white bear





















2 more
by chels





i know i sing
at the edge
of silence

when the breath after
we breathe says
content. read me

the lines beyond
my eyes in
the dark, the stars

caught in my eyelashes.
the way my hair
feels softer, softly damp
against my pillow.

i have been
struck, i am
a ripple, a movement.
a wave,

i never rest; i
am only a heartbeat,
ceaseless.
lapping at your
shores.














you move me
in toe-curl,
it feels like yes.
voice in my ear
building
perfect distress.

i am a teacup,
rim touching lips,
in your hands
cradled; careful-
draining sips.

sculpted by
fingertips:
your monument, i'm

broken
by your blows.
we rebuild me
each time














-jonathan leder via leclownlyrique



















to you-know-who-you-are -

one of the cruelest people I have ever met in my entire life.

and now

I will
eat
a soft piece of
delicious
nutritious

wonder

bread

&

go back to bed.



--an0n




































untitled


the bottomless sadness
of being an object;

I cannot escape the shape
of my own imprints

-- by peterlord








florence berluteau















what not to tell him -


that he is a dead-beat dad

and has no hair
under that hat/cap

that he has a disease
called
pedophile do cryptic

that he wouldn't know a spider from a cat.

that you can cook every thing around him
better than that

..


that he is the only one who ever checks in
twice a week
to make sure you aren't dead.

that his mother wasn't asleep under the kitchen table,
she was just passed out like that.

..

that he is a coward, a thief and
if you had brothers in the area
they'd kick his ass.



-- anesthezia
































Ode to Nina's Skin



There was her arm, my first rose
holding her while she withdrew
into fever and trembling, my prayers

three buckets of water to clean
her kitchen floor while she slept
how she said she'd bone me
and with what we never kissed

how i swallowed it all
without choking
forever changing my ability
to walk with God


--this so called flower



chris lindhout



















if

love is all you
if love is all

you

if love is

all


you

need then
what is need


--anonymous


5 comments:

Chels said...

LOVE this issue. It looks gaw'jus. Ta for the inclusion. xoxo's and all that. :D

burning moon said...

awesome!

I love the artwork

hiccup said...

thanks chels and rae. so glad to have your poetry to inspire the composition. labor in love ~l

Anonymous said...

choose your next addiction wisely

--bumandpirate

Blogger said...

Invest in Ripple on eToro the World's #1 Social Trading Network!!!

Join millions who have already discovered better strategies for investing in Ripple...

Learn from profitable eToro traders or copy their positions automatically!