Wind Song-Nathan McCool/God of Dregs

A Global Divergent Literary Collective

The wind blows in from the west today, and
cigarette ashes blow from shaky hands
onto my feet – still vacant of motion and their pursuit
of love left paralytic. I put my lips on the edge
of a windowsill candle and I become the flame.
The wind blows in from the north, and I am
all crimes of passion and renewed faith
in beauty;
but you know it’s all drowning slow in this
mournful wax placenta.
The wind blows in from the south and
a flock of birds impregnates the air
one more time with songs of ships
and foreign lands. A single dove comes
to converse with my musical heart murmur.
The wind blows in from the east, and butterflies
nearly drown me in a river. It takes rest
on my silent, morbid shoulder and I lose tears
to a river when I think of how I should…

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Maraschino Cherries-Georgia Park/Private Bad Thoughts

A Global Divergent Literary Collective

I cross state lines
to lay on your piano
and complain about
all the boys
ive scared off lately
(“Oh, do you really care?”
“…nah, not really.”
“Good. Now you have
more time for reading.”
“Yeah, that’s exactly
what I was thinking.:)
and eat maraschino cherries
like its sufficient
I tell you,
I’m involved in hip hop
and you warn me
not to get shot
and that’s it.
I turn around
and drive home again.
you said I was a poet
and I could do this.
yeah. ok.
Ill try again.
I had a meeting
with my publisher
right after
I did backup
on a rap hit
I signed up for a show
on 4/20, dig?
and I didn’t even
get shot or anything.
see? I can listen.
yeah. you say.
you can do anything.
but you really shouldn’t
need me to tell you this.

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AuBurn Blue

RamJet Poetry

Auburn Blue

perihelion found

permanence postscript

devious deviations

demented dalliances deliver

dead drop doldrums

cut angel sized holes

into the firing range

bleed black brevity into

the mouth of home

keystone melting into the hour

solace on the diamond

stealing 3rd and no throw

will get you out

spout about shouting

no one has any idea

what is going to happen

Formaldehyde lemon candies

succulent and sweet

sever syrupy dissemination

auburn blue bruises on

the lip and the hip

callous caustic caresses

leaving fire in tresses

disable the disbelief

with summertime shine

and mayhem for Goldilocks

Brown bear tears put

tears in eyes

and almond flavored

murder makes a great cake

in the wake of the fallowed

forensics and forgotten

faces of the nevermores

ghost recon lab rats

postulate in parentheses

armored with ambiguity

aversion of authenticity

find the binds

that keep

and heap up on

the trendy feed(oh boy!)

feeding fat…

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you’re not religious

samantha lucero

some people are only religious when they see Mary
on the corner with a heart-wet mouth. h a i l  Mary,
full of avian bones and candy wrappers they pick up
at disneyland
that you never see get thrown
won’t you be mine?
perhaps. she makes them think of their mother
smart and streetwise
with all those invisible skirts and ankles
or perhaps the cradle where it all went
down hill; it’s all downhill from there
from birth to showers of sparks
to final scenes fading to black
the camera now pans to an inky bedroom
where you’d cry out and somebody
would always come (or cry too?)
or maybe you used to pray there
like a wound by a candle
no one ever listened to you
— why would ‘they’? —
no one is there.
and that’s okay.
i’m comfortable with that
like sharks are in…

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Short poems I

The Sounds Inside


every time I bite
my jaw cracks
with the sound of
a misspent youth


I could stick a knife
in your belly
and you wouldn’t blink

what are you hiding?


I breathe inches from the convex mirror
waiver on the brink
bleeding purpose into an empty pit
save me
you call out
‘come back’
‘I want you’

I think you have me confused with a better man

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