over 10 pins

clown shoes and warm booze 

song’s on repeat and fried food

♫ just a small town girl ♫

Photo by Carl.  Words by Fred.

birth days and days we wait

birth days and days we wait

my mom was born once

a few years ago her daddy waited while her momma felt the pain-joy 

of bringing her into the world 

Washington DC

last night my sadie waited for a young lady to have a young lady

she held her hand

she was honest and fair and full of love 

and then she told me about it

Chicago IL 

birth days and days we wait

somewhere someone is pregnant 

on a broken street in a broken house with numbers falling from the door

where they are free and broken and alive

there is so much beauty in it, birth 

falling in love while orgasming and screaming and thrusting in pain-joy

life 

becomes 

starts 

is

birth days and days we wait

that mother

on that street 

in that house 

with the numbers

broken

maybe we could hold her hand

Photo by Carl.  Words by Dustin.

blishonesty

"I...I knew where I was going."

"Huh?"

"I just..I needed a reason to talk to you."

"I know."

"Huh?"

"We get off at the same stop."

Photo by Carl.  Words by Fred.  

BLESS

your imperfections,

the berm of pink flesh

they once pulled an appendix through,

the 27 bones in your right hand

and the 27 bones in your left

come together flushing water

from creek—

praise your wild heart

loving what isn’t good for it,

sweet tooth, restless feet,

knees stained in grass and umber,

smell of pin oak, dandelion,

windows left open to rain—

I will sing glory

without good reason.

If there is no one else

I will sing glory

in empty streets, packed

bus stations

in factory towns,

hospital lobbies—

sing glory, glory, glory,

until the word is hot on every tongue.

Photo by Carl.  Words by Andrew.

Unique

You are one of a kind

I remember being told, as a kid, that I was special

Not everyone gets told that

                                      I am grateful

I wanted to see the world and make movies and fall in love.  I wanted to fight against racism and elitism and greed.  I wanted to live in an apartment with a brick wall and a wood floor and ride on trains.  I wanted to drink whiskey and go to the theater.  I wanted to explore and disappear into the night and write poetry.  I wanted to listen to good music.  To have true friends.  To pay attention to the sun sets and sun rises and the rain.  I wanted to jump.  Thank God for keeping me alive.  And jump again.  I wanted to run barefoot on hope and faith.

Maybe I didn't want all of these things at once, but at some point I wanted them.  At some point I put a foot in front of another and shifted my weight.  I fought and scrambled and... got out of bed!  I willed the world to accept me.  I thanked the people and the buildings and Chicago and my artist and if I haven't been thankful enough, I am sorry.


I am grateful.

Please know and remember that you are special 

      Not everyone gets told that 

                                                  You are one of a kind

Photo by Carl.  Words by Dustin

My First Disappointment:

Last night, the Man in the Moon appeared in my window.  

He was gazing at a photo of me.

Curious about who I may be.  

I enjoyed the stillness of the night.

He was content with being so bright.  

All that was heard were the lightbulbs whispering about.

All I could see was him.  His entirety.  

He tugged on my heart strings and I on his craters.  

He opened his Mare Nubium and blew me a gentle kiss.  

I tucked it in my pocket and walked on through the night.  

Feeling hollow like the moon.  

Photo by Carl.  Words by Ashley.  

Skinny

My limbs have grown skinny.

I forgot verbosity,

to puff up bigger than I appear,

to let fullness guide me,

so you could see me as better than I am.

But this new winter I withered, lost the extra weight.  

These arms once held beauty, bright colored love.

I'm thin now, like what you see.

Good; sure.

Useful; yes, still.

But I always valued excess over just enough.

Even if God is so specific in his finger prints,

even if the most precise touch is balance,

I've still lost the taste of Spring,

to hold more on these bones.

And I don't want to work for it.

Im waiting till the inspiration of warmer weather

cracks open a new me

and there I am, covered and heavy again.

But the seasons of life don't work that way.

Or at least not for me.

God won't send the Spring 'til I sweat.

Until I eat.

Please see me as bare, but growing.

  

Photo by Carl. Words by Jordan.

we put up a bridge

we put up a bridge

remember . neckshouldersandback . until it stopped mattering
drive your car
stick your sticker

get political during politic season

what about the snow and the redwood trees and the birthday night blues

what about families and theatre and cheap good Mexican food

what about God

we used to build our neighbors houses

Photo by Carl Lindberg.  Words by Dustin Whitehead.