After 10 Years, J.Sheirer

After Ten Years
By John Sheirer

"You're insane," he said, his last words to her before turning to leave, his last words after ten years of marriage. "You're like that crazy artist guy who cut off his ear, what's his name, Van Guy or somthing. The only difference is that you've been slicing away my life a tiny wound at a time each day for the last decade instead of just hacking it off all at once."

Red Gold, J.Brooke

Red Gold
By Jerome Brooke

Empress of the waves, Warrior Queen,
Ruler of the bold,
Lead us to battle, lead us to jewels,
And to red gold.

We are ready to follow,
Ride to the South;
Lead us to victory, or lead us,
To red death.

Why do you cry? Look, find him,
I will surely slay the man,
Find him, the one who has failed,
Who has earned my hand.

Now you smile, now all, all is well,
Queen of the West.
Now my Lady, lead us to victory,
And the test!

San Marcos 1998, M.Rainwater-Lites

San Marcos 1998
By Misti Rainwater-Lites

Heather was not hot but she thought she could be a model with her skinny pasty body & long lank brown hair. She cooked meat in our tiny kitchen left ketchup splatters on the counter sprawled out on my futon watching deep space nine with her hand in her pants. During the flood an old man came in with a fully stocked cooler. He reeked of wine coolers. I moved out soon after, hating girls more than ever.

Sickle, T. Rowe

Sickle
By Theodore Rowe

Hang just a little further
Reach
Let it drip
Fall just an inch
Look dangerous
And taste so cold
Shrink in the sun
Then don't come back for months
Ice sickle s.o.b.

Da Bears, Superfan

Da Bears
By Superfan

Da Bears. Uh, I would like to say dat da bears are gonna win da superbowl dis year and I am very happy to say that, yes in deedy I am. I say uh, final score, Da Bear 132, da Jets 3.

Imperfect Guitar, A.Parmessur

The Imperfect Guitar

By Amit Parmessur

Sitting on the wild rocks I marvel at the periwinkle,
fully forlorn in the nearby receding tide pool.

The whistling of the dry coconut leaves in the wind
has been accompanying my pregnant thoughts of you,
with the large and strenuous pelicans surveying the sky,
right above my bewildered head—

I have never ever thought you would leave the
land of our bond and ships would become my enemies
How dare that elderly ship steal you from me,
making my eyes scarlet in the indifferent crowd.

Sitting on the rocks with my wild guitar I
sing sweet songs of your improbable return, sometimes
dreaming of you dancing, dancing lithely in a ring
of violets, with frisking lambs, piping shepherds.

This evening I have broken a string
as my fingers are a bit too drenched in anger. I close

my eyes and imagine of you sleeping
on a bed of daisies in our favorite valley over there.

I secretly cut a hair from your peaceful head,
fixing it in my excessively grieving guitar.

I start playing again but the other remaining strings
cannot be as melodious as your versatile holy hair,
rendering my guitar uselessly imperfect.

When I open my briny and heavy eyes,
the tranquil sea surface has turned orange,
the sand is a stretch of yellow lawn
and the periwinkle is gone,
leaving the tide pool as good as a forlorn desert. I go

home like a doomed crab destined for a too salty soup.

Snow Falls, M.McCoy

Snow Falls

By Meridith McCoy

Here comes the snow. The first of the year. Clean and white like virginity. Before the salt comes in and violates it, making gray sludge. But it will snow again. And be pure. A second chance.