chute

i've seen it once before 

in a dream i think 

were you there 

i said.  were you there

they ask me to find words and make visual

to hold tension 

they ask me to say yes 

i keep no calender and i certainly hold no ground 

and where i end will be a page filled with names of places and people and laughs and love

chute

Photo by Sadie.  Words by Dustin.

Melodic Strands

Electric guitar
chords
pulsate ears
on southbound bus--
rifts based
on Mississippi
Delta and Piedmont
styles
spitting lessons
into jugs.
Howling--
Fingers
bending string
recorded
by needle
injecting bits,
circuits filed away
in Library
of Congress,
promoted
by race record
companies.
Inspiring Chicago
Westside sound
of Blue--
grass vibrant
as Sierra foothill
hiking trail
in April;
marked directions
to road
to dam-dried cascades
to polygamous village
plagued by Gold Rush
drowned in
lake.

 

Poem by Ciara Brewer.  Response by Nadia Hassler.

I'm not a leprechaun

I'm too sticky for a double take, you only get one.

This one stare balances on the edge of disgust's first cousin "intrigue" and amity's bastard child "envy"

Im not a leprechaun ahh, that is a stereotype, well I guess since we are so hard to spot, you would only know that shalalie toting attention whore, not that I don't enjoy this attention

I'm beauty's messenger (and ex lover)

I just thought I'd tell you since I've got for the briefest moment of surprising disbelief: your gonna die and before you do you CAN live, give yourself license to...the treasure is trying

That's it, I know everyone always expects more!

Stop looking at me so I can do the poof thing

Hahahahaaaaaaa

Photo by Steve Brian.  Words by William Gillespie.