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Archive for April, 2008

Presenting: Misti Rainwater-Lites

Bitch Dragon

the bitch dragon is breathin’ fire
down my neck
the scales are shinin’
the claws are scratchin’
the tail is lashin’
this is how it goes
as I drive down the freeways
of Texas
with gurglin’ stomach
& the stain of 35 years of shame
all over my steerin’ wheel clutchin’
snow white hands (more…)

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#34

Stanley H. Barkan
MAY

So
the flowers
have come,
at last.
Millefiore—
all the colors
of the mythic rainbow.
The little girls wear them
in their hair,
prepare
for the dance
around the pole
we dreamt about
as children.
Butterflies are still
in chrysalis,
moths in pupa.
When hint of summer sun
will warm their cool cocoons,
they’ll spread their wings
and flutter out
on petals firm to the seed
on edge of branch,
open to the greater
and lesser lamps
spotlighting
their all too brief
encounter with the air.

(more…)

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#33

Joseph Goosey
BIT BY THE ANT

I have decided to begin
drinking,
tambien.
I view the geese
mobbing
other
geese.
And here
are the
girls
in
pink.

(more…)

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#32

Lyn Lifshin
NUREYEV

he has a marvellous
engine inside him,
like a Rolls Royce.
He’s a mixture of
a tartar, a faun and
a kind of lost urchin.
In his final years
he insisted on literally,
excruciatingly, dying
before our eyes,
giving performances
so ragged and inept
audiences whistled ,
demanded refunds.
He was ill, but the
stage was his only
real home. So he
stayed there

(more…)

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#31

Ananda Selah Osel
The Last Poem of the Night

my real name is
not the name
you know me by
I changed it
to hide from
you and them
and him
and me (more…)

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#30

Alan Britt
CRICKETS

Crickets, the only stars
on this overcast full moon.

The crickets are thick
distinct choruses
discerned
by leaning this way or that.

Their trilling
resembles frenzied
blueyellow beaks from the Peruvian rainforest.

The sky kneels on surrounding
green maples,
spreading her mother-of-pearl nightgown
over white lawn chairs
and the bare shoulders of a split-rail fence.

The crickets are industrious,
oblivious to personifications in their midst.

It seems they’re hopelessly preoccupied
chewing tiny holes in the nightgown
worn by this aging humid July evening.

(more…)

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#29

Tony Nesca
MUTED LOVE SYMPHONY IN THE BIG EASY DRIZZLE

empty pen on table
concrete walls in my body
bearded man blows the saxophone
politician says alright slickster
head feeling down-low
world news grim
purple moonshine out the window
I watch the timewheel rotation moving easy
henry miller he got some wild ass cockroach-sexy
he smilin’ like satchmo in the big easy drizzle
I smilin’ like ella she giving me sweet ass
one I love misbehavin’ cuz it’s me and my radio
world singing the muted-love-symphony
it’s rain on your sunshine
it’s no idea in the urban indifference
it’s love in dark corners
it’s angry-jack in the wildman blues song
it’s me and you holding hands in the forever-happy
unforgiving celebration…

(more…)

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#28

Nicole Isabella
moon calf

old man drooling buying courage to have just one touch
step out the back door for a cig leaving friend and foes
finding places where faces melt to some phony funked out trip
laughing lenny bruce groovy desiring some thing
non-descript superficial scene-scaping landing nodding kind
keep moving card carrying valley proud fractured mind club
hat worn low memorex eyes frequency flying with tuned-up ear
where the parking lot lovers artist and philosophers meet
where hearts and bodies fight for rights to mental containment
contentment knowing no one looks too long or too hard in face
ambulance screams in the distance steel nerved unaffected
frightened only by the answers to the unasked questions
heavily lubed and primed from old man bargain drink shot specials
saints in some rock-an-roll choir unglued and let loose
poets stand silent watching listening to gun shot banter
capturing some feeling some moment some weakness
emotionally plagiarized aggrandized like only a lonely angel can
times slipping dawn’s colour is spitting i announce ‘i’m splitting’
‘chitty chitty bang bang’ kiss kiss goodbyes and ‘alright til next time’
scene was supposed to fade into greys blocking his goddamn rhythm
sky’s-eye bright still mocking as it they he hauntingly pace my stride
bang walls of skull forgetting pictures written melodramatic dylan lyric
bathed in obscene light of the moon exposing secrets held closed
stepping harder faster to beat pink’s yellow’s orange’s mournings
revealing the lines from story…”crying like a fire in the sun”

(more…)

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