send me your small poems. 
scratching myself--
I wish you were
the mosquito
arms akimbo--
you have not enough
hands to shoot
sting on my right foot--
did you cut me?
are you the wound?
surviving,
you lift your own hurt
to soothe theirs
waiting,
I am where
I never was
to let you turn
the other cheek,
he slaps you
holding what cannot
be held--
a torch
sitting--
he and you
alike
carrying an ant,
you tiptoe
slowly
laughing loudly--
for me,
for you
in love,
you look down
not because of him
whose face
do you see--
writing, thinking
which part of him
am I
the rest?
sorry to disregard
you--my hand
still on yours
who do you want--
someone like me
or me?
this is the question
you ask
to be alone
you talk--
he talks
to listen
~Jill Chan
o where
o where are all the ones
that used to
get me up at night
and make me scribble notes
on scraps of things
in the bathroom
lest morning come and we part
unnamed unremembered
except for
one strange color or another
or the look in some emily's eyes
but every brief evening now
the things that pass me by seldom pause
even to say hello
and whoever it is
comes knocking tonight
will only be there
to remind me
i really really do need
to go pee
~james lineberger
2 by Venus Jones
COMPUTER LOVE
Listen I love you and I really don't want to overlook
But I have so much to read and watch on facebook
Loving thee is great, but this photo must be scanned
Let me finish this last level in this game, c'mon man
We can create a playstation but there's a message on my Wii
Plus there's a comedy series on youtube first I wanna see
How do I love thee, you say you need me to count the ways?
Hmmm I do stare at a computer more than you most days.
THE RETURN OF SPRING
she removed dead leaves from branches
he watered dry roots with love and care
they nurtured what was once beautiful
after a tiny green leaf emerged giving hope
how to make love last
when the bloom begins
to fade, we rent
a convertable, put the top
down, and at the highest
point of land leading
out to the sky
hold hands , punch the gas
and learn to fly.
~lynze
Blogger Hector the Crow said...
synthetic peace
life's a bitch, but she's got a soft spot
a light touch on the death-bed, let's say
through this tube, it reads as peace to me.
cloying
existential
afterglow
erotocrats
Thorsten Hasenkamm
Strange
How a bright day can cast
too many shadows
Not a bird aloft or singing
or gathering that shining fish
in the glittering water
can break a mood
-suzy martin
