The Busted Window

The window shattered. Jack's rocking chair teetered as invisible shards of glass nestled into the calloused balls of his feet. A shake or two revived his limbs enough for a curious wobble to the now breezy hallway. He glanced left. He looked toward the entryway and remembered who used to stand there. And the same old longing returned.

"Why do I always smell vanilla when I think of her?" he asked himself with a whisper. Scampering to avoid the shards of glass that lay defeated on the ground below, he moved toward the utility closet in the hallway where he knew cleaning supplies soundly slept. It was there, resting at the bottom of the door, that he discovered what had caused this shattered imagery of reflected light and hardwood.

It must have been hurled pretty hard to have ended up here, he thought with a curious sigh.

By the time every invading shard was removed from his hospital-clean floor, the room had grown stiff with the chill of late fall. He silently moved his slippered feet back to the closet and with his aged hands picked up the small, hard object on the floor. Despite it's metallic exterior, he had no trouble lifting it. There was a warmth emanating from it's depths, reminiscent of the child once nestled in his lover's womb.

Suddenly, the object began to hum and increase in warmth. Jack dropped it and watched it roll down the hardwood floor until it stopped underneath a table in the corner of the room. It was dark below the mahogany surfaces, but he could feel the vibrations quickly dismantling the calm. The doorway - so it seemed - was the safest place to go. But to run would be cowardice. He knew what he must do...

He cautiously approached the corner of the room, noting that a quick exit was possible through both the kitchen and the hallway. With the poker from the fireplace, he lightly tapped the humming orb.

Nothing Happened.

He tapped again.

"What a crappy mini alien space ship THIS is!" he jeered. He kicked it out the door, down the steps and into the old paint-chipped dog house that was once home to Sparky, the bilingual nomadic dog.

oil mist elimination

argyle scarf, khaki pants and socks
soggy on the floor like deliquescence of ice (MM)
like a conquered chrysalis it lay
want only to be locked in a display case, set on velvet cushions (GS)

...and moistness wasn't the issue
though they had both just been in the river (MM)
- Baptized so that sins may be forgiven
for they eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil - (GS)

Good being the before,
Evil being the 'side effects' (MM)
of memory's failure to grab each moment's subtle form
of a metamorphosis, told in time (GS)

And the second she got in bed she thought,
"Is this moment supposed to rhyme?" (mm)
"or have context, plot, or meaning affixed?"
"I can't even say deliquescence without having a lisp." (gs)

romance seems so old when naked skin
can't even shoo away the words (mm?)
A pregnant pause rings louder - wait
for silence beckons you to come. (gs)

All of the thoughts that buzz above
refract sunlight from the heavens - divine (AA)
though feet are scorched seeking water
on reddening fragmented shells and limestone. (O'R)

Undecided

I borrowed your bike because
I liked the ways the wheels went 'round
The gears make it a bit bumpy but...
that's life when you can't be found

I wouldn't have needed the bike if
something important came up
Like a new car donation
or hand claps from a standing ovation

I tried to catapult my consciousness
couldn't find the right words
a likely longitude for the undecided
or the latitude longing for change

No Name #1

In the beginning, there was me
you probably assumed I couldn't see
but with each turn of the head
It was clear that what began would readily end
Like eventual simmer of the wind

The Unshackling

Amber Fibula Gasoline Massive
Crimson Lips Straw Tiny
Burnt Sienna Finger Petroleum Coarse
Azure orbs heart infectious

Pegasus water caliente! 8:06 am eastern
Little Dipper Jagermeister blodig 2:00am
Cassiopeia Tequila Jeune 11:11

Venice salmon table! spicy
Ottawa halibut lampshade Phosphorius
Tokyo pilchard's alarm clock Tether

One Word

Plastic
Tomatoes
Creation
Segregation
Caustic
Crystal
Mystic
Inchoate
Diamond
Theme
Whirl
Repercussion
aggregate
retained
Intelligent
Mortality

~By AA, BC, GS, JMH, NS, PL

Company

Paste things
as haste brings all things to an end
Create waste
Not chaste, saving face with your friends
Held in place
Disgraced stranger in his own skin
sharing caves
Ignoring brave times when both shall win
jealous of his neighbors car
Ignoring the daytime fog
of your mind
Sometimes it's hard to find where you began

~By BC, GS, NS, PL, and AA

.38 special

she told me that she wants to have my children

i told her they could not wear brand name sneakers
but she still held my hand anyways.
i put in a cd and skipped to track 4
turned up the volume as .38 special came on
"Lately I'm learnin' that so many yearnings are never to be"
i've always been a wild eyed southern boy
You've always worn the same red underwear
we always knew we were a well-fitting pair

for the third time this week i went outside
Only to find out that the mail wasn't there.
I almost asked you if you really knew me
We both know that wouldnt be fair
I gave up telling the truth before we met
Maybe thats a lie too
Like I said, we know it wouldnt be fair

~By PL, BC, GS, NS

Yielding A Kite

Are we tangible, edible and if so, delectable?
Are we on our way out, and if so from where did we begin?
A line allows progress, severed branches and twigs
A word like love gets overused and underappreciated
(most words are)
(less words you make)
HOW TO AMPLIFY!?
Such a thought cannot be explained rather deteriorated
Progressive downward spiraling- is sober somber?
Repeating for the sake of learning
Experience it twice, never forget
But forgetting what was once remembered and lost
What were we thinking?
What would we endure?
We would endure poinsettias, brown sweaters, endeavors to please us.
Not forgery or coin trickery
No salvation in adapting to a world which is crazy
Did we lose our sight for small things?
Did we find a taste for fine china and lace?
Are we left drunk and blind from cinematic love?
The credits have become a thing of the past.
We held on to the wrong things and they start to decay
Like the languorous leaves from late fall lessons learned –
Brittle, they fall to pieces in our wrinkled hands
(melted icicles come with spring)
The leaves, at least, know their purpose
while ice shards on the roof dream haughtily of greater things.
Dive bombing and derelict descent
Engines idling mid-air
Two innocuous smiles, without a care
One of them thought there might have been a chance
poor humor biting on seeds of happenstance
Again, how to live through what so many could not endure?

~By BC, AA, PL, MM, NS, GS, JMH, and O'R.

Red Light Night

She smelled like the morning after, and her face looked like guilt
seventeen tattoos that etched nothing into memory
He always made himself a career out of taking dives
"Damn thing's broken," I said, "take it out of your mouth, Ms. Po-tato Head."
Where can we go from here
We go to the liquor cabinet to loosen our tongues
Jager, Absinthe, Vodka and Rum
Nothing of substance. Just detail.
Getting undressed didn't look like it was supposed to
Another shot, pause, stare. Repeated as necessary
Eyelashes zippered to make it go quicker.
Feel with your hands, not with your heart
For the heart twists sensation with it's own agendas
The only truth you'll ever know changes as your limbs embrace each other
But stays the same in scent and sound,
Especially after the whiskey sweats out
Then you can leave with your hand to your mouth and your eyes to the ground.

~By BC, AA, JMH, MM, GS, O'R, and NS.

Caja de Corazon IV

April is the cruelest month
its evidence washed away
something strange tastes of blame
punctuation was useful once
now wanton words wax poetic again
budding as eustoma petals purple
does not know dying is imminent
still crosses himself before meals
yet sets his feet below the table

Lying as March Lions malinger mendaciously
unreserved in truth as lucid bears grumble May
Seeing Dust in a handful of fear
the forgotten lamb's darling stands
a most inconspicuous spot
a patch within patches
pound for pound the better craftsman
shaven wool facade for a depilated attic
that Delilah once knew

February brings answers falsified in three
blind cries to god; a response: "je suis"
at the bottom by bound feet
Countertops wake only to flee
from December's death rattle discomfort
His cold is only a dream
an unraveling sweater: mental disentanglement
A thread remains hidden in the undertow
Like the suicide note set off to sea
in drowning bottle bent bewildered
Gone...

~By MM, NS, O'R, GS, and TS Eliot