~11th street~ eclipsed eyes see forces hallowed by misconceptions of flat land centered in a world unbalanced frightened wanderer full of circles that cross harp shaped charismatic forgiven angels who hold reality of ark and of blood lust through visions of remnant angels running wild to fantasy of free will -Kimba Copyright: July 31, 2001
I opened the mirrored door and behold- an 8-million eyed serpent crawling up the wall and Andy Warhol is calling me with his eyes. I opened the door and whispering voices were falling as colored comets. Atomic bomb clouds blossomed from my open palms. Volcanic lava oozed from my open mouth into the streets. Green lightning sparkled in my eyes and blasted out into the night. Into forever. END -matthew sipress Copyright: September 24, 2002
ANEW And once again I find myself Looking at something not on the shelf I must have what I can't touch Deny myself the secret lust You are claimed fair and square By someone who can't be there To help you in your times of need The times when you wish to bleed Here I am, look at me You don't really quite see You and I together Now, always, and forever This I can not see Ever happening to me Life will never be That good to me You're the connection to my past I found a way at last To create myself anew That way lies through you As my despair is recreated I'm unsure if this was fated I will always wait for you The time when I'll be created anew -Dickie Copyright: 2001 narya60@hotmail.com
We miss you Dickie.
"Crosses of Color" Our journeys crossed briefly at the super center today. You were wearing a nametag and a smock, that was both familiar and unflattering. I was still shivering from the cold wind that held me from the parking lot until the sliding door. Both of us began looking for products to color ourselves. It is fun to be women playing in colors. I noticed that you were watching me, so I spoke to you about colors. You asked me what I thought of a purple shade for nails. I watched as you unscrewed the cap, then reluctantly you revealed your nails to the purple paint. Your red, cracked nails that were worn down to the flesh told a tale of how hard those small hands had worked. You stroked on purple frost paint to nails that seemed to smile. As you looked down you spoke, "Maybe this color will help me to feel better about myself?" You looked up at me and I smiled into your soft brown eyes, that also painted a picture of you. I told you that purple is a lovely color. You nodded your head in agreement, then you walked away. I will remember your hands and your eyes and your love of purple. I will remember you. -Kimba Copyright: February 26, 2001
we are not where we are the tiny drops of life spilled across the bathroom floor counting the seconds between breaths sometimes forgetting you make me feel like i'm not breathing not here, not now escaping into what i never knew finding myself inside your eyes learning how to hold on feeling how to let go i think i'm falling melting into your layers and the ground never comes deeper i echo out words without meaning you seem to understand though . . .the pathway i am choosing -Fawn Copyright: September13, 2002
~Desistrata~ Clouds swirl colors over night black landscapes. Tornadoes, spinning paintbrushes, howling tempests decorating the air. Leaving an explosion of colorbursts in their wake. Lingering, slowly fading, to serene quiescence. -Matthew Sipress Copyright: August 6, 2001
~scissors spray and smiles~ blowing mumbles of clattering sound purposed to pamper flesh filling laughter both weak and strong veils and masks reality of beauty clanging money drawers that scream to be fed by promises and wishes of plain jane to glamorous gina transformations smiling darlings who correct and repair shortcomings are seen as if god by the insecure by the needy by the common electric screwed on smile temporarily held in place by compliments that keep the money drawer smiling -Kimba Copyright: July 8, 2001
SHE SAT BY THE OPEN WINDOW THANKFUL FOR THE NIGHT BREEZE IT WAS LATE AND THE TOWN PRETENDED TO SLEEP PERIODICALLY IMAGES ON BICYCLES WHIZZED BY WITH VOICES BARELY DISAPPEARING INTO THE DARK SILENCE ONLY THE SOUND OF CRICKETS AND WIND CHIMES KEPT HER COMPANY HER LONG HAIR HUNG LOOSE AND DAMP OVER HER CLOTHING SHE THOUGHT ABOUT TOMORROW SHE THOUGHT ABOUT YESTERDAYS HOW LONG HAD IT BEEN SINCE SHE HAD WALKED BARE OF BODY AND FEET UPON HER MOTHER HOW LONG HAD IT BEEN SINCE SHE HOWLED AT THE MOON TO LONG FAR FAR TO LONG SHE ROSE UNDRESSED LITE A CANDLE BATH IN WATER OF SALT AND STEP OUT INTO THE NIGHT THREW BACK HER HEAD AND HOWLED AT THE PREGNANT MOON THE NEIGHBORHOOD CANINES JOINED HER TOGETHER THEY SANG THEIR MOON SONG SOON PEOPLE BEGAN YELLING AT THEM BE QUIET SHUT UP BUT THE HOWLING CONTINUED THE TOWN AWOKE BLOCK AFTER BLOCK LIGHTS CAME ON IN APARTMENT WINDOWS HOUSES AS WELL PEOPLE STARTING MERGING INTO THE STREETS SEEKING THE MAIN HOWLER THE ONE WHO COULD BE HEARD ABOVE THE REST PUZZLED LOOKS CROSSED THEIR FACES BECAUSE SHE COULD NOT BE FOUND AFTER ALL SHE WAS IN HER OWN BACK YARD FOREST AND WOULD DO AS SHE PLEASED LET THEM GRUMBLE LET THEN SEARCH THEY CAN ONLY GUESS THEY WILL NEVER FIND SHE SMILED SIRENS WAILED WITH RED LIGHTS FLASHING A SPOT LIGHT PASSED OVER HER BARE SKIN SHE LET OUT A CHILDISH LAUGH DISAPPEARING BACK INTO HER SHELTER SAT BY THE WINDOW WATCHED WAITED AND LISTENED HER FAVORITE CANINE AT HER FEET THE MOON SHINING THROUGH DANCED UPON HIS WHITE FANGS HIS TONGUE HUNG TO ONE SIDE OUT OF HIS SMILING PANTING MOUTH HER HAND RESTED ON HIS HEAD JUST AS A POLICE CAR STOP IN FONT OF HER HOME HE STARED AT THE SILHOUETTE IN THE WINDOW UNSURE IF IT WAS A REAL CANINE OR A STATURE AFTER SEVERAL SECONDS HE DROVE AWAY THINKING TRULY IT WAS ONLY A STATURE SHE LAUGHED SOFTLY LET THEM SLEEP OH PRECIOUS WOLF AT LEAST FOR NOW -WOLFEYES Copyright: AUG 18 2001 Jourdamivia@aol.com
