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 May 2014
Chloe
I'm like a gate way drug.
I'm a starting point.
A late night bad decision.
The desperate act of a man feeling low.

*You want me because I'm the only thing
that wants you back.
 May 2014
Helen
If I had a Dollar
for all the times I trusted you
when you said
There will be No Regrets
Oh wait…
I did
and I was finally able
to buy a packet of cigarettes

If I had a Dollar
for all the times I remembered
when you said
Baby, you’re the only one
Oh wait…
I did
and I was finally able
to buy a packet of chewing gum

If I had a Dollar
for all the times I listened
when you said
My Darling, you do that well
Oh wait…
I did
and I finally bought a ticket
out of this Hell

If I had a Dollar
for all the times
I regretted
all the things
I heard
and reviled everything
that you said
I’d be Rich
beyond my wildest dreams
And my dreams
are so poor
I would even pay you
A Dollar
to take them
from my head
Jan 19 2011 :)
 Apr 2014
JM
You will not be meeting me
at the train station,
wearing nothing but a sundress and
the warm scents of
wet desire rising as
a lustful fog
from your steaming forest,
anytime soon.

The heat would **** the sun.

I will not be showing up
on your doorstep,
rigid and pulsing
with the blood of
centuries coursing through
my thick roots,
in the nearest future.

The pressure would crush the moon.

Instead,
I swim in your teacup
and warm baths
while you roam in
the smoke at the edge
of my shadow.

I feel your soft whispers
across the ocean of time
as they float on broken
spiderwebs of memory.

Our love is in the words
between the worlds;
resting in the
wet soil of
an afternoon nap,
we bloom as one.

As the fire of night
descends, destroying
the boundaries of time
and space,
we transcend all that
is cold and unforgiving,
leaving behind only
echos of wanting.
 Apr 2014
spysgrandson
that summer, Born to Be Wild
and Mrs. Robinson were on AM,
A & W Drive Inns served frosted mugs    
and Tet’s blood had not long dried black
on Saigon streets

my thumb took me from the green tipped tongue
of western Kentucky across the wide world
to a café in Santa Rosa, where I spent my last
eighty-five cents, on a tuna sandwich
and chips

a bus bench was waiting for me  
when the cafe closed its doors
at 12:10, the old waitress giving me
a generous extra dime of time,
knowing I had to face the night  
and the bench, or the New Mexico road
I chose the latter and headed south  
under coal dark skies    

only eighteen wheelers passed, their screaming lights
robbing me of what quiet vision night’s monotony had granted  
they saw my thumb, but not one stopped; they did not know I had walked
a dozen dark dead miles, and had not closed my eyes in 60 hours  
nor did they care, about me, or my shadow on Highway 54  

I talked to pinyons,  cedars that dotted the mesas
and moved about like mournful buffalo, stirred to life
by a sound or a scent, perhaps my own foul road bouquet,
though they were mute, even when I asked them
if I was seeing god in their measured marching
across my desert dream  

long before
the dawn I begged to come
I saw him, dead center on my highway
so black he was blue, his eyes like two emeralds
hanging in some ethereal space, staring at me, the rest
of the absent world unaware he was there, growling
the rumble so low I tasted it, as he might taste me,
I felt our nostrils flair, as his would when
he devoured me,  I saw the blood feast
through our eyes, the last morsel of me,
a pale art form on an asphalt palette  

as he swallowed the last of his meal
the eighteen wheeler came, its high beams bouncing off him
only long enough for me to see his mouth was dry
and his belly empty, before he vanished
into the blue night
The late great Gabriel Garcia Marquez uses the phrase, "the eyes of a blue dog" to refer to a group of short stories he penned. I have no idea what he meant. This "thumb tale" is one of many I wrote about my time on the road, hitchhiking in my teens. In this story, I had been sleep deprived for nearly 3 days and the dark desert came alive in strange ways.
 Apr 2014
Tom McCone
i brush a tender moment, strewn beside
the traffic lights in your eyes. to collapse!
to hold this a second longer! you burn like
sodium, on the inverted face of my retina.
in the thick undercarriage of cloud cover
you pour into my skull, fine droplets, as

rain begins to fragment sidewalk lines.
open bold nothing, i. what can be lost?
against all views from above the city, a
glimmer belies some gain. if a single cut
of grass sprouts from the ground, no loss
will matter. we will orchestrate a forest.
you will see. we will arch our backs, join
gaze, scrape teeth and house the ocean.
the sky will collect where our skin meets.

so, i feign no casualty and slowly
dissolve at the thought of you.
we will lay in covers of fallen leaves
 Apr 2014
Moon Humor
My body burns to rove far from man-made
buildings, prisons for the modern soul.
I need to traverse the frontiers white man stole
from those who made it their home.

I've been down to the Everglades of Florida.
Fan boats flew through the estuary lines with roots
of mangroves. I've been to the Hoh Rain Forest of
Washington where fog descended on the shoreline
and married the sulfur smell rising from hot springs.

I must experience America's coast to coast beauty.

Every spare seconds I spend luxuriating in the
sun, thinking of all the places untouched.
My list of desires grows as the glaciers
of Glacier recede in Montana, beckoning
me to the Rocky Mountain Peaks.

Old Faithful gushes, surrounded by wolves and grizzlies.
Someday I'll cross Yellowstone's expansive mountain ranges.
from Idaho to Montana to Wyoming. On the arches of
Utah I'll face my fear of heights and find solace at
the tops of time-layered sandstone towers.

Descending the Grand Canyon I'll study beautiful
colors exposed by years of erosion. In winter
Death Valley will be braved. The lowest and direst point
will exhilarate me with scaled creatures as sand
dunes whisper my name with every hot breath.

The Badlands of South Dakota will hope I come
backpacking through prairies to watch precious bison roam.
California Redwood trees and I will stand side by side
as friends. Yosemite will call me to her cliffs and I will chase
waterfalls and sequoia groves until I've seen it all.

I ache to explore the terrain that bears
my name, the country I call home.
 Apr 2014
AprilDawn
Half-moon pops out of cadet blue sky's pocket
no stars yet tonight

Neighbor's worn white chimney
looms above
six foot cedar fence
laden with returning fuchsia Bougainvilleas

Overgrown Bird of Paradise stretches
wind slashed leaves
in desperate hopes of letting
light into its heart

Mosaic stepping stones
mark a vivid trail
to so many plants
whose names I do not know
that continue to bloom and grow

Caribbean blue metal lizard scampers
across garage wall
as nearby pensive garden goddess
gently cradles dead blossoms
in cupped palms

A lone Blue Jay glides over
the pollen dressed
pool surface
toward willowy flowers
in terracotta pots
that are busy sending
fragrant messages
to my patch of suburban serenity.
This one got published  in my college literary magazine in  early 2006.I miss  this garden  in the burbs  of Houston. Like I knew I would.
 Apr 2014
Jedd Ong
The book folds to reveal
The real world,
Beneath my crouched knees

Untied sneakers sprawled
All over the floor, muddy.

There is a silent joy in
Watching others consume
Realities all too
Different,
And all too
Common to
Yours—"unreal,"
Ethereal.

Perhaps all too so.

For the past two days
I've caught the people
Crouching beside me
Sniffling.
 Apr 2014
Skadi Snow
There is this moment.

After hectic hours in the daylight.
The view minutes after the landscape
was painted in the splashing colors of sunset.

Before some people fall asleep
Or break out in an insane serenity
Caused by the feeling of being incognito
Under the invisibility cloak of the night.

There is a moment of placidity.
When the last rays of sunlight
Battle with the first stars
For the ******* of the sky.
When the shadows grow longer
And blur between light and darkness.

When the surroundings are dim-lit
I am the most alive.
The silence makes me hear.
The monochrome paints make me see.

I step out of the penumbra
And vanish in the outlines of the world.
Where the river meanders for the sky’s embrace
Her lovelorn bank pines in the banyan’s shade
Blue ripples sing to soothe her travel’s stress
Lay me when all poems are dead in my head.

Write me an epitaph here rests the river poet
Who loved the cotton clouds mirrored on her breast
As her tides rose high laden with desire’s weight
He broke away from chains to madly sail her crest.

Where shines the moon makes the lover’s pathway
Flows quiet the river in her waves shadows sway
Night heron’s feet kiss her soft feathered bed
Lay me in silence when all poems are dead.

Lay me soft down make for me a space
On her alluvial soil in her riverine grace
In her diurnal shine and night’s saline kiss
The river poet would find his eternal peace.
maybe one day this wish of the river poet will come true.
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/643826/river-poet/
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