week twenty one

_________________________________________

my mom

pick me up from soccer practice

cut me up some orange slices

capri sun

capri pants

tomato soup and grilled cheese

pajama pants on christmas eve

alex shahan

_________________________________________

time machine

last night i was visited by my future self. he (me, or i) said (will say?) i have lots to look forward to in the weeks ahead. he had borrowed the time machine from our friend the scientist, gard (future gard) and had stopped by on his way to see my life's most embarrasing moment which only happened last week. "really?" i say, "it doesnt get any worse than last week?" "have no fear, my young friend" he says as he pats me on the shoulder, "it will never be as bad as that last week of finals 2009." with that statement he walked back to the time machine, flipped a switch and waved as he shimmered and disappeared. it was only then that i realized my future self had come back a week too soon...

trav clark

_________________________________________

b is for boys at edp

b1: are you a cheerleader? me: no

b1: oh, well i really like your costume!

b2: hey i like your shoes

me: oh thanks, i like your suspenders.

b2: thanks, where did you get your tights?

me: umm i dont remember

b2: cause i have the same pair.

me: oh, thats weird..

b3: dayum girl i really like your style

me: haha thanks

b3: hey would you like to dance with me?

me: um i think i need to warm up first.. ha

b3: oh um ok.. well maybe later then...

30 minutes later..

b3:are you all warmed up yet?

me: uh yeah i guess so

b3: ok great so can we dance now?

me: well i dont really dance with boys.

b3: please just one dance im so into your style girl..

me: i really dont know how, i only dance by myself. sorry..

b4: hey can i take a picture with you??

me: um ok..

etc.

lindsay anonymous erickson

_________________________________________

139 north 500 east

i went to a birthday party for a boy i didn’t know.
i thought it would be fun, make some friends, say “hello.”
little did i know, i was about to have my sleeping heart awakened
by austin rory hackett.
the end.

claire russell, with editorial revisions by austinrory hackett

_________________________________________

i am a special kind of coward

i am a special kind of coward

i have all the warm and soft bits
the bits that sing the songs,
and hug and kiss and love
and laugh laugh laugh
and do all the joyful dancing

and i have the wet and weighty bits
the bits that cry the tears
and wish and hope and dream
and bleed bleed bleed
and do all the heavy longing

but i lack the nut-and-bolty bits
the bits that pay the bills
or earn or plan or save
or 8 to 5 to 8 to 5 to 8 to 5
or do all the busy marching

and here is where the fear begins
"the marching"
like maybe I'm just half a man
like all the juicy fleshy parts
but none of the skeleton

which is why i say i'm spineless

just s. guy

_________________________________________

calamity

calamity
is the exaggeration
of daylight roof dreams
gaining dignity
with sky breaks
and eye cries.

so play
before someone finds you,
bone-bare,
between your violin
and flying arms

unfold
that ear sweetener
for those rattling,
jawing mongrels,

or chase your innocence,
and your music,
beneath the tablecloth
and silver mantle,
against escape
or ever moving one finger
to ivory
or string
or sound.

lincoln wilder

_________________________________________

pockets of octopus suction cups

this leprosy, around, is reminiscent of last leprosy

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . (and only other)

the location of which leprosy was a basement and a a boy

. . . . . . . . . . . . . (and gloves)

and drowned eyeballs in a car.

. . . . . . . . .pockets of octopus suction cups

sarah cutler

_________________________________________

little sister

little sister, just remember
when you move away from home
that when the stars at night don't seem to shine-
i promise that you're not alone.

i've been spared by angels
on many star-less dark blue nights
and in the morning, they cast me gently
back into the dawn day light.

little sister, just remember
when you feel you've lost your way
when is seems as though this windy road
is leading you astray

trust your heart and intuition
they never failed to lead me home-
even when i felt a wanderer
in this strange and foreign world.

bianca merkley

_________________________________________

untitled

devoid of any semblance of human emotion

i am displaced

what i feel is not

what i feel is mercurial

a floret, white blades outstretched

basking in bliss the great illuminated orb provides

i exist solely for you, for the warmth

only you can bestow

administer your being unto me

your softness lulls me to melancholia

i am intoxicated with potential

but disquieted by pleasure

my essence is tectonic.

kristie forzese
_________________________________________

he's my pep pep, i love him

my dad and i were talking about sex the other day

and he reminded me that in order to have my own children

i would need to have sex. what worried me was his tone

it was as if he thought i would never actually have sex and

never give him the grandson that he's always wanted

and then he said, 'im worried you're not going to give me a grandson'

and at that very moment the post man arrived at my home with my mission call

'brother duce, you have been called to serve
in the vancouver, british columbia mission'

and i said out loud 'oh no, that's where my dad lives'
and an hour later i called church headquarters

and rejected my mission call.

now instead of preaching the gospel, i can spend more time trying to give

my father the grandson he deserves

chris duce

_________________________________________

note left on the dresser

you screened my phone call this morning.
i know because i was in the building
across the street from your house
and i saw you leave,
phone in hand.

i guess, then, it was mostly out of anger
that i broke in through your back window after you drove away
because the first thing i did was kick a hole in the wall.

after i was able to calm down and read through your emails,
i stole eighty dollars and left to go buy things
to reimburse myself for all those dinners i paid for,
but then at the store i saw this poetry collection
i had been meaning to tell you about
and picked it up for you.

i hope can you accept this book
as my apology for the hole.
maybe we can get together over lunch sometime
and talk about a few of the poems?
my favorite is the one about the old man
and his twin brother.
let me know what you think.

also, if you're going to be around saturday afternoon
i could come over and fix the wall.
you could even take the chance to repaint the room.
i'd love to help you.
you mentioned you'd been thinking of trying a spring yellow?

austinrory hackett

_________________________________________

really heavy metal

the question:

if you were starting a heavy metal band and you wanted it to be the heaviest heavy metal band of all time, what would you name it?

the answers (honorable mentions):

emphyzema
bench press
butch slabchest
bezerker and the master blasters
carbomb
zombie derelict
kitty sacrifice
kitty surprise

and the number one heaviest heavy metal band name of all time submitted by rory emerson bruggeman:

pentaglam

austinrory hackett, jonah bergevin, rory bruggeman, emily labonte, niki arrington, liz preston

_________________________________________

week twenty

_________________________________________

untitled

oh science
that temptress
my fickle mistress

gard nelson

_________________________________________

party of one

you are what you eat.
and so after our breakup
she's right, i'm nothing.

colin pinegar

_________________________________________

needs adjusting

a crooked picture
hanging on a shabby wall
or is it just me?

lincoln wilder

_________________________________________

dizzy ease

my throat is ice cold, like a cold beer,

or a cold blanket, or a cold sore,

and its starting to grow hair on the inside.

has that happened to any of you before? you ever

grown long hairs on the inside of your throat?

maybe its because of its temperature or the fact

that i've been praying for long hairs
to grow on the inside of my throat.

or maybe its because i've been in such a great mood.

but either way, i'm not excited to find out how much its going

to cost to pay someone to trim my throat beard.

chris duce

_________________________________________

if rory bruggeman were called to teach primary
(this is a rap, btw)

you little turd
ill crack your neck
ill hit your face
and youll hit the deck
smash your teeth
grind your bones
i'll make sure
no one can hear your moans

dane cannon

_________________________________________

2012

surely we have at least 100 years to go

before the end is here.

but then i learned

about giant jellyfish sabotaging the coast of japan

global warming or hydro dams are to blame.

refrigerator-sized, translucent, gellatinous beasts dominating the nets of frustrated fishermen

jellyfish transformed into fertilizer, pets, or

human snacks.

and now i think the myans might be on to something.

megan morton

_________________________________________

cubatao

i read today about the brazilian military
reforesting cubatao with machine guns shooting seeds,
a direct contradiction of their original purpose.

this story could be a goldmine for hippies.
they'd recreate the scenario in a photo shoot
and plaster the image on a war protest billboard:

an armament of death spewing life
into the earth and everyone standing around
the weapon smiling, tan and unshaven.

jokes about guns n' roses would be
a hit with everyone involved.

austinrory hackett

_________________________________________

week nineteen

_________________________________________

traffic signals

-like the green needles of a coniferous tree

and the red illumination of amsterdam city

shimmy and shaking my body will always be-

breanne chipman

_________________________________________

when you are gone

i warm water on the stove
just to warm my bones-
and i can feel winter coming now.
the windows are closed
and the evening seemed to last
for half the day.

I clench my mug tightly
hoping that the warmth will rub off.
odd how the temperature drops
when you are gone.


thank you new york

beep.
honk honk.
beeeeeep. hoonk.
hoooooonk hoonk honk.
beep beep beeeeeeeeeeeeep.
hooooooooooonk.

thank you new york
for letting me know
that it's time to get up from my nap now.

bianca merkley

_________________________________________

jill taylor vs. dana scully

no shirt, no shoes, no pants,

no baggies, no yum yums,

no plants, no chaps, no braided belts,

no jams, no turtle necks, no dap daps,

no tramps, no spouses, no cummerbunds,

no silks, no smokes, no service.

chris duce

_________________________________________

in response to austin's "solo album"

For the record, Garfunkel had the better voice. And I'm not just sayin that cause our names share the same first three letters (we gotta stick together, you know). Not to mention that there must have been some sort of creative synergy between the two of them - as great as Simon was on his own, his career was never quite the same as when he had Garfunkel by his side. Kinda like the Beatles and the whole sum being greater than the parts, you know?

gard nelson

_________________________________________

broken trust

as you ran toward me,
arms stretched
wider than your smile,
the sun smoked
on the horizon
and beat at the heels
of your fearless footfalls.

though you had not yet reached me,
i could feel warming arms
squeezing from me
a dignity unmatched,
a fire so numb and pretty
it might melt me.

and my fist clenched
and i sent it
shrieking at your eye.

it was like hitting a baseball
so purely
so cleanly
that nothing was felt at all
but the stroke.

you sprawled backward
on the dirt;
a stunned fear
in your circular eyes,
and there was no ball
to throw back.

tomorrow lays alone,
mind on the past
restless, but remembering,
as what we had
marches with spring
out the window.

lincoln wilder

_________________________________________

i consider you an acquaintance

shatter your glass face
made of clouds and ideals
suck the living breath
out of your bulging lungs
adorned with bow ties and
"arsty angles" of your
tragic face
tulip chains resound like bells
in my black and white dreams
ernesto, rigoberta, saddam
forget them all!
it's your face i see!
it's your approval i demand!
americans; proud to be
unless you like what you see
when you wake up in the morning
"i don't read fiction"
"i don't read fiction"
paris je t'aime.

kristie forzese

_________________________________________

train wreck

what if all your ex-girlfriends
were gathered in the same room
would they yell at each other?
would they fight to the death?
would it be like putting scorpions in jar
and shaking it up?
or like seeing an imminent train wreck,
you want to look away but can't

no, it's much worse.

they would all get along really well
they'd share stories and laugh together
and form a facebook group
and agree to meet monthly

trav clark

________________________________________

the triumph of rock opera

what you have heard is true. meatloaf has the third top-selling album of all time worldwide. 42 million people proudly own a copy of bat out of hell and sing along with the overweight, sweaty, but sexy sexy man in his unflattering tight white shirt and suspenders. and if you don't quite understand how this happened, how it beat out zeppelin's IV or anything by the beatles, and even holds a narrow advantage on the dark side of the moon, just watch the music video for the title track. when he says, "like a sinner at the gates of heaven, i'll come crawling on back to you" and points his fat finger right into the camera to emphasize the fact that he means you personally, you'll never have wanted to give in to anything more. this mysterious man named after a mysterious food will grip your heart in his chubby hands and take you down that road with those 42 million who have paved the way before and put meatloaf on his over-sized throne with giant gold-gilded bat wings reaching out gloriously from either side. giant bat wings straight outta hell.


true love and a possible restraining order

i'm not even positive that it was her i saw
over the shoulder of the less-impressive girl
i was talking to last fall, but i think it was.

she was picking up her bike
from the rack west of the chemistry building
while i was trying to think of a way

to casually break my current conversation
and run over to talk to her before she rode away.
i never thought of one.

that was twelve months ago.
today i chained my bike up in that same rack
for probably the two-hundredth time since i saw her.

each time i hope (mostly subconsciously now)
that we'll both ride in at the same time
and she'll smile at what she erroneously assumes is happy coincidence.

we'll chat about something charming
and i'll pretend to be going the same way as her
only to turn around once she gets to her class

and run back to my own that's held
in the first of the many buildings we passed.
this is not love. this is a sad and pathetically far cry from it.

but I like to think it's a possible symptom,
like the abnormal bumps and discolored moles
that make the doctor check for cancer.

maybe it's an embryonic love,
a precursor to something greater,
but for now still in the eerie little fish stage -

with gills, transparent skin,
and those bulging, ugly, alien eyes.

(from falling star magazine)... they said i have to credit them every time i put it anywhere

austinrory hackett

_________________________________________

who said that was cool

books, books, books

they're piling under my bed

its not that I don't want them there

because really, I do.

i just keep forgetting to read them

no, thats not true

the real issue is that when I find more I like

i forget about the ones I already own

and still haven't read.

but I like those books

i like lots of books

i just started reading one today

its about george.

washington, that is.

he's cool, in an

"i sorta wanna know more about him"

kind of way.

i'm a nerd

i'm a history major

what can I say?

"who said that was cool?"

i do.

me and my history books

so cool right now.

liese rodger

_________________________________________

pies

pies are not for baking by wives in kitchens on days absent from work.
kitchens, bedroom, houses, wives. i will never be called wife.

sarah cutler

_________________________________________

a poem for rob

you stumbled in with weak knees and a knot in your tummy.

integrals, derivatives, trigonometric functions of x?...you felt like a dummy.

but then i came to your side, glasses on and calculator in hand.

i said, "i'll sit with you for as many hours as there are grains of sand."

you looked at me with tears in your eyes.

you said, "claire, you've saved me from a most terrible algebraic demise."

i put my fingers to your lips and whispered, "no, rob. rob, no..."

could it be that you have forgotten a similar tale that happened not so long ago?

you see there was a house on thirteenth street.

a haunted house in fact with which few others could compete.

we walked through that maze hand in hand,

on each of our wrists, a red wrist band.

you protected me from the robotic killers and ghosts.

when lance fell over, i think i laughed the most.

rob, i know i couldn't have done it alone.

with your bravery you made it possible for me to get through that death zone.

now what is it we can learn from these experiences

neither of us asked for nor wanted?

it is that nothing can bring two people closer

than math and houses haunted.

claire m. russell

_________________________________________

week eighteen

_________________________________________

love and marriage

i think i should start being unappreciative and rude to people who make nice gestures for me. apparently that is a personality trait that is finally going to get me a man.

also. if on my wedding day, my father makes a speech in which he thanks his lucky stars that the day he never thought would come has come at long last, it may hurt my feelings.

dappled sunlight on a beautiful fall day is, however, a good omen.

sara thomas

_________________________________________

have you ever thought, "maybe i can't make it, and, even if i could make it, it's probably not worth making it?"

i recently had this thought... about creme brulee.

dane cannon

_________________________________________

macksie pads

i haven't written a poem in a while
as most of you have probably noticed
and the only excuse i have
is that every sunday night i get really high
from chasing cars and huffing their exhaust
i get so so tired and so so high from chasing those cars
and sticking my nose up their tail pipes
and i just forget to write something sometimes
so sue me

chris duce

_________________________________________

the collective conscious of the youtube all-stars

i fall off ladders,
tables,
and roofs.

i abuse my body and pride
for your entertainment,
a sacrificial clown.

i'm on demand,
eternal repeat,
now on iphones everywhere.

i'm the new ice breaker.
the party prop
of the millenium:

"have you seen my latest video?
the one with the electrodes?
no? well sit down and check me out."

i'll never make it big,
i'm the quintessential one-hit wonder.
but at least i'm a hit.

at least i'm a wonder.

austinrory hackett

_________________________________________

a series of one-liners that get progressively shorter and more pessimistic

"carving pumpkins"
in two days yours will have completely deflated and you will regret that big mess you made in the kitchen.

"never have i ever"
if you win we will congratulate you on being the most uninteresting person in the room.

"boys"
the only ones that are interested in me are either a) my cousin or b) have girlfriends.

"uncomfortable couches"
you're only making it that much easier to take things to the bedroom.

"miley cyrus"
did you know she is the same person as hannah montana?

"purple tights"
all i wanted was to cry when i ripped a hole in you today.

"thyroid"
it would be lovely if you would start working again.

"school" if i can't see you maybe you can't see me.

"xanax"
i stole one from my roommate tonight.

"kissing"
it still hasn't gotten old for me.

"yankees"
you suck you suck

"anxiety"
i hate you.

lindsay erickson

_________________________________________

i just can't see the difference

so what if it is halloween?
don't really care about halloween.
everybody loves halloween
but all i see
are people pretending to pretend to be
the things they really are.

maybe you will see some devil girls
with devil horns, and devil tails
or perhaps you will see a sexy cat
or a sexy nurse, or something worse.
but there are whores on other days
that barely dress and paint their face
bitter hearts and bitter taste
behind a mask of perfume and lace
their lips are red, their eyes are black
and they can't get their virginity back
even if it is halloween.

so what if it is halloween?
don't really care about halloween.
cause all i see
are people pretending to pretend to be
the things they really are.

maybe you will see some spooky ghosts
or zombies walking with the undead hosts
this halloween there might just be
some mummy men, or a skeleton.
but the undead walk on other days
they march along at a steady pace
soulless crowds without a face
that come and go without a trace
stone white ghosts in a hollow shell
wading through their own private hell
not quite sick, definitely not well
in a cloud of numbness that they can't dispell
even if it is halloween.

so what if it is halloween?
i just can't see the difference.

just s. guy

_________________________________________

i wish i didn't want to smash your face in.
i used to dream every night that we were in a kitchen.
and you hated me.
but then i said
"i really like your clothes."
and you smiled.
and we hit it off.
i tried that once.
i said
"i like your pants."
but you didn't smile.
you didn't even look at me.
you never look at me.
next time i see you.
i'm going to walk right up to you.
i'm going to make you look at me.
and i'm going to say
"i really like your style."
and you'll smile.
and we'll hang out for a while.
crocodile!

amber dobson

_________________________________________

two part[s] bird[s]

wednesday: i'm a peacock
. . . blue&green
. . . . . . feathers brown
. . . . boots


my knees knock when i stand

my knees knock when i stand. when i
walk. when i walk from no place to no

place. i'm sitting. and my knees are knocked.
do bodies notice? does the sand, the street,

the everyday road i take to get, notice?
i don't want to be noticed.

lucky charms

at 4am
the spring
4inches
beneath
my ear
pops
each breath

sarah cutler

_________________________________________

the test

so the other day i was driving

when suddenly

a homeless man stepped in front of my car.

i had to swerve and slam on my brakes.

i was irritated and swore under my breath.

then at the next red light i thought.

i thought that maybe this homeless man

had stepped in front of my car just to see

if i or society

still acknowledged his presence in some way.

megan morton

_________________________________________

jerk

hey you. stop it.
you put me in a bad mood.
stop with the power trips.
no need to be rude.

take a deep breath.
you really need to.
just sit down for a sec.
what's got you so blue.

look around the room.
no one is happy here.
you should think about it.
it's time you had some cheer.

sometimes this job is fun.
with you it needs some work.
don't mean to be so harsh.
but i really think you're a jerk.

liese rodger

_________________________________________

saturday morning

the saturday morning sun
shone
with alien intensity,
coloring the drab bricks
first pink,
then white.

but it seems no beauty
can erase
last night

not gold
not god
not a hot steaming stack
of buttermilk pancakes
dripping with fresh
country
butter

but her!

she smells
like cigarettes
and yesterday

she smells
like a street
i know too well,
like tacos
and diesel

she
smells
like
me,
so i won't ask
for anything more
than her emptiness

now she,
that one,
she might just do the trick.

lincoln wilder

_________________________________________

quite an interesting journey

going through old books
the titles of each seem to tell it all
the story of my family-
quite an interesting journey
"divorce for dummies"
"the divorce remedy"
"making love the way we used to...or better"
"raising children in divorced families"

reading these titles bring emotions to the surface
i thumb through old journals
i can't seem to help myself-
read the story of my parent's life
and reflect upon mine

it seems so ironic
reading words from my father
who commented on his father
and vowed not to make the same mistakes

here i am reading titles of books
on keeping relationships alive
on strengthening home and family
and i vow as well
not to make the same mistakes

bianca merkley

_________________________________________

week seventeen

_________________________________________

the downfall of traveling every week for work

while being on an airplane a lot
skymall magazine told me all the things i
didn't know i needed.

i begin to feel so sorry for myself.

i do not have a toothbrush that can clean itself
or a brownie pan that creates brownies only with edges

i do not have an electronic tarantula
meant to scare off other spiders

i do not have an i touch phone, let alone the two that would facilitate the dual charging device.

i do not have a baseball signed by pete rose
and my poor dog must have a strained neck as his bowl
is not ergonomic.

i do not have the case needed to talk on my cell phone while
scuba diving.

maybe most depressing of all
is that my bathrobe is not made of genuine turkish material.
it is just cotton.

my biggest concern with all of this is that
getting home is always a little less exciting after i realize how
inadequate all of my current possessions are.

megan morton

_________________________________________

the best blues are written in the fall

my roommate has been way too happy
to write any good blues songs lately,
but i have hope for him come fall.

blues written in the spring
have too much undercurrent of optimism,
surrounded by evidence of the after-darkness dawn.

summer blues are half-hearted, almost forced -
trying to pretend things are bad
during long, warm days.

and winter blues are unneeded, overdone,
like kicking the dead, honking in a traffic jam,
or burning a bent and broken building.

but the fall, that's a time for some killer blues,
when nature herself is saying, "yeah, we're all gonna die,
but we're going down in high style,

dressed in our best autumn clothes."


triple haiku on an autumn observation

if only humans
aged half as beautifully
as the dying leaves,

the cover of vogue
wouldn't waste any more time
with young, skinny girls,

but rather would show
some old centenarian
in orange and red.

austinrory hackett

_________________________________________

conversations: written down @ waffle house/served scattered

it was powerful, though, that girl, who is always at
the library and we smoke cigarettes with.
it didn't work. how's your painting going? -hmmmmmmmm
we must say deplorable. it is the word of the day.
i wonder if i used that in the right context.
-is that my laugh? yeah,-- is that mine?
do you want your trash straw?
and the rockets red glare
i thought about it the other day- how they cut down trees
cheese grits, cheese grits,
i want my song to play. i got a waffle, of course
i got a waffle.
you can sit anywhere you want.
i thought 'i saw the sign' was 'i saw the sun'
did you put syrup on your hash browns?
what is the best experience you've ever had?
-- take a minute
your favorite thing to do
i thought i was getting abducted once
i was listening to cat stevens,
people don't say their f's or t's
it was a vindictive waffle.
i hate that i'm curious.
my mother used to bring me to the morgue
and show me baby limbs.
i've seen at least fifteen. i was taught lessons.

jessie jarva

_________________________________________

i'm sorry

i'm sorry that my claw hammer
slipped from my hand
and stuck into the side of your dog.
some stitches will probably fix him,
but that patch of fur,
that tore away
as i pulled the hammer out,
is probably a goner.

to remember the day
let's change his name
to something that will remind us
that hammers and dogs don't mix.
i've got it!
let's call him "look out"
as i'm sure he'll forever
be looking for flying hammers,
particularly when you're with
any of your dirtbag friends.


it's okay

i could see,
as i looked
at the heel of your shoe,
that you had stepped
in dog shit
on your way
to my house.

you walked right in
like you didn't know
that shit and gunk
had stuck
to the sole of your sneaker,
and then you tracked it
through my living room.

i thought about
taking a meat cleaver
to your feet
and wrists,
and feeding the parts
to the pigs that live
in the neighbor's yard.

but i'm willing
to remain calm;
it's okay, really.
it's just dog shit
on my carpet
and as long as you
pay the bill
to clean it up
i'll give you back
your wife and kids,
unharmed.

lincoln wilder

_________________________________________

the a priori prize: how a winner is chosen by theoretical deduction

when he speaks his words are good...
he says we can improve this hood...
if we just act the way we should...
the intent cannot be misunderstood...
hmm, give him the nobel we could...

brad barth

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aw, here she comes again
with her wrinkled face.
blowin through her two front teeth
pullin up the roots.
screamin out the color...
green to gold to red to orange.
holdin in her hands
the coldest love we ever know.
her comes fall, she's makin snow.

holly jo hackett

_________________________________________

THERE WAS THIS GIRL, RIGHT? AND SHE WAS LIKE, SMOKING HOT, RIGHT? I MEAN, LIKE TOTALLY HOT. SO SOME DUDE WAS CHECKING HER OUT, RIGHT? HE WAS LIKE ALL LOOKING AT HER AND NOT LOOKING AWAY. AND HE WALKS UP TO HER AND HE'S ALL LIKE "I HAVEN'T SEEN A GIRL IN 4 MONTHS. YOU'RE VERY PRETTY." SHE JUST KINDA LAUGHS AND LOOKS AWAY. HE SAYS IT AGAIN "YOU'RE VERY PRETTY. YOU'RE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL GIRL I'VE EVER SEEN." HE DOESN'T LOOK AWAY THIS WHOLE TIME. HE'S NOT SMILING. HE'S JUST LOOKING AT HER AND TALKING ALL SERIOUS. SHE SAYS THANKS AND STARTS TO WALK AWAY. THIS GUY GRABS HER WRIST AND JUST KIND OF TURNS IT AND DOESN'T LET GO. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING? YOU'RE HURTING ME!" SOME GUY GRABS THIS SERIOUS GUY ON THE ARM AND TRIES TO MAKE HIM TO LET GO, BUT HE WON'T LET GO. ANOTHER GUY PUTS HIM IN A HEAD LOCK AND IS ALL LIKE "LET GO, OKAY--LET GO OF HER!" I REMEMBER THINKING AT THE TIME 'WOULD THEY ALL HAVE COME THIS QUICKLY IF IT WASN'T A PRETTY GIRL?" WHEN THIS GUY PULLED ON HIS ARM, IT HURT THE GIRL TOO, SO HE COULDN'T REALLY PULL THAT HARD. ANYWAY, THIS SECOND GUY PUTS HIM IN A HEADLOCK, BUT THEY CAN'T MAKE HIM LET GO -- HE'S JUST NOT LETTING GO. AND HE'S LOOKING AT THIS PRETTY CHICK--AND HE'S NOT SAYING ANYTHING ANYMORE. THE SECOND GUY IS PULLING HIS CHOKEHOLD REAL TIGHT, AND BY THIS TIME THE BARTENDER CALLED THE COPS. THIS GUYS FACE IS JUST GETTING REDDER AND REDDER, BUT HE STILL DOESN'T SAY ANYTHING, AND THE HEADLOCK GUY HAS ONE OF HIS ARMS AROUND HIS NECK AND ONE AROUND HIS FOREHEAD, BUT IN BETWEEN YOU CAN JUST SEE THIS GUYS FACE AND HIS EYES ARE JUST LOOKING AT THE GIRL, THE FIRST GUY SOCKS HIM IN THE STOMACH AND HE WINCES A LITTLE, BUT HE STILL JUST KEEPS LOOKING AT THE GIRL. THE GIRL IS TOTALLY CRYING AND ALL HYSTERICAL NOW AND HER FRIENDS ARE PULLING ON HER, AND IT'S HURTING HER, AND ONE OF THEM THROWS HER DRINK IN THE GUY'S FACE AND JUST STARTS SLAPPING HIM AND HE WON'T LET GO. AFTER LIKE A MINUTE MORE HE FINALLY PASSES OUT AND HE LETS GO. THE TWO GUYS HOLD HIM DOWN TILL THE POLICE GET THERE, BUT THEY DIDN'T NEED TO, HE WAS OUT. THEY JUST LOADED HIM UP AND TOOK HIM AWAY. WHEN HE FINALLY LET GO, I JUST REMEMBER THAT THAT GIRLS ARM WAS SO RED, LIKE HIS FACE WAS. YOU COULD SEE HIS HANDPRINT ALL ON HER ARM. YOU COULD SEE THE WRINKLES FROM THE JOINTS ON THE INSIDE OF HIS FINGERS.

dane cannon

_________________________________________

week sixteen

_________________________________________

roommate haikus

sam may not be tall
but clearly has the most style
per square foot of man.

chris is protecting
your family with logos
and color palettes.

when rory dances
even kanye and jay-z
wish that they were him.

jonah helps the world
by destroying deadly germs
through the nintendo.

austinrory hackett

_________________________________________

the last 24 hours.

begin 10 am. drive drive. st.george. drive. diana snapshots. drive. gotta pee!! drive. viva las vegas. in-n-out #3. savers purchases: wedding dress for dead bride costume, euro-trash jacket. burger king bathroom. wardrobe change. makeup on. fake tats on. tropicana. mandalay bay. byu loss on the big screen. happy hour sushi. run in with provo friends. crappy band named halloween town (isn't that a disney original movie?). drunken neighbors breathalizing regularly and finding themselves "sober" each time. "sorry guys, we're all on ecstasy.. we are." beer spill. fake g.a. wrist band fail. phoenix!! last of the mohicans soundtrack? the killlerrsss. weed smokin in the bathroom. officially deaf. the strip. bellagio fountain. time to go. drive drive. multi-car pileup. cops cops ambulance. hour long standstill. drift into sleep. honk we're moving again. drive sleep. sunrise. drive drive. provo. church clothes. solid relief society lesson by yours truly. end 10 am.

lindsay erickson

_________________________________________

phobia

this weekend i observed as my nephew (age 8) flipped through tv channels. he stopped on cage fighting just as a bout was getting started. i asked my nephew if he knew what he as watching and he replied, "a fight." i explained a little about the rules and style of this particular sport and warned him that it might get bloody. he reacted instantly by shutting off the tv and bolting out of the room. i sat on the couch perplexed by what had just happened.

later that day maggie and i took this same nephew, along with my niece (age 6), out for frozen yogurt. while driving home the subject of spoon color came up and i found myself defending my choice of pink. i asked the kids if they liked red because pink is basically a light red. my niece then said, "i like red but my brother is scared of red cause it reminds him of," then added in a whisper... "blood."

i asked him to confirm if this was true. he replied, "i have a phobia."

this confession of my nephew hit home with me and i instantly felt for him because when i was exactly his age i developed a phobia as well, one that my family gave me a hard time for. it was a fear of . . . bananas.

now is my chance to explain.

late one saturday afternoon, when i was just a tyke, i went for a bike ride with a friend to his neighborhood. we were nearing his house when we saw his neighbor standing with the hood of his vintage sports car open and shouting at his engine. it was obvious that he was freaking out about something interesting so we rode up the driveway to inquire. the neighbor explained that he had been called to the hospital where he worked and ran outside to jump in his car. just as he was about to get in something caught his eye. he stood lower and saw the tail end of a snake as it slithered from the drive way up into his engine block.

the man said that he could see the snake but it was way out of his reach. then he looked down at me. being the smaller of the two kids standing in his driveway, he asked if i would be willing to squeeze under his car and reach up and pull the snake out. assuming that lives at the hospital were at stake, i agreed to go for it. as i wiggled my way between the chassis and cement i realized it was a much tighter fit than i had expected. i likely would not have fit had it not been for the amount of leaked motor oil that greased the way. i continued to wiggle until i was entirely pinned under the car. at this point i realized a few things, it was very dark, very oily, and oh yeah i had no idea if this snake was poisonous. to top it all off i was stuck. attempting to reposition myself, i inhaled a deep breath and realized that the moist air was rancid. as my eyes adjusted to the dark i realized that just in front of me was a black pile of rotten banana. It was to much to take, i yelled out in terror and the man finally pulled me out from underneath the car by my legs.

i cant remember how or if the snake was captured that day, but i do remember the smell of that banana. it took me ten years before i have the courage to eat a banana again.

myron nilsson

_________________________________________

lunar parasite

alone on frost bit bleachers
i rest within your gaze
outstretched amongst your brights
and blacks

im saturated in this
in you
feeding off your gentle rays
like sweetly swollen veins

soaking in your glory
as you dance in my akward arms

pale moonlight shine
grace this lonely face
glide down my throat
like a drop
and fill me please
imply the lie
that i might lie
forever underneath you.

alan christensen

_________________________________________

that house should have swallowed me, i begged. last summer was free time and no car. last summer i walked and that night when i first noticed that house knees melted into road into sea. happiness was not the issue. rarely, if ever, i ask houses to consume me due to happiness. beauty belched from beach stoned exteriors. radiations of transfixed flying freedom convinced me to be the house.

the walks, probably, didn't help. everything about walking takes me to the north west. the rain. the dry. the truck stop that never stopped growing. the slug we named living in a bike box moldy three feet in grass we trimmed with scissors. and kept the slug. pink ovens. catching seaweed. all i ever tried to catch, seaweed. and moss. crows skipped,

like stones across parking lot puddles, used tampons. i walked home bare foot, pouring rain, splashing in those petite pools in love with naked wet soles. in love with former volcanoes, hollowed dead trees affording space for me. how kind. how in love. how october. take home-able

road bumps i drove over to make you laugh. the ground declared from a battle, a battle that never took place. the walks from free time summer last year remind me of the years i wish would consume me in the north west. portland lived alone on sealed cement i stained with salt water overflowing

from shot glasses. the trolley i swallowed up my atmosphere on, homeless or crazy or homeless and crazy dialogue is a magician forcing rabbits and women and ropes. i kept those dialogues...monologues...

sarah cutler
_________________________________________

week fifteen

_________________________________________

eff missed opportunities

opportunity came a knocking

but no one answered the door

so opportunity tried the door knob

and it was unlocked.

opportunity opened the door and walked inside

it hesitantly hollered, "is anyone home?"

as it walked across the dark hallway

unfortunately for opportunity

the owner of the house

had recently discovered a gas leak

and had evacuated the house

to wait for the repair man

just then opportunity found the light switch

trav clark

_________________________________________

ipod shuffle

you can't always get what you want
but if you try sometimes, you just might find
you get what you need
we all need somebody to lean on
so lean on me when you're not strong
and i'll help you carry on
for it's the eye of the tiger
it's the thrill of the fight
rising up to the challenge of our rivals
and we are the champions my friend
and we'll keep on fighting til the end
it's the end of the world as we know it
but i feel fine.

megan morton

_________________________________________

have a great summer

you probably always just assumed they were wishing you a good summer, but here are some other (very likely) interpretations of h.a.g.s.

hold a great seance
harm a good samaritan
hold a greasy snake
hold a greasy seance
have a greasy summer
hear a gaseous sound
hams are good'n soggy
holler at girls' seats
hey! any girls sexy?
hello? are goblins secret?
help!!! aunt gertrude sharted!!
he-man's a great swordsman
houdini: a gay sorcerer?
hidalgo: ain't going somewhere
hope a girl sexts (get it? sexting...?)
hello and good september
hurry amber, gordon's shedding!
heaven's a goody shelter
haven't any girls sexted?
hurray! a glowing scepter!
have any good spleens?
had a good spleen.
hell's a great sauna
hairy as german sisters
have any good stuff?
hear amber greatly speak
heard amber's "great" speech; had a good snore

amber dobson and austinrory hackett

_________________________________________

the epitome of good design is something
that is functional and looks beautiful

on occasion, my hair reminds me of a schoolyard

a schoolyard in hell

well, maybe not hell, just some place close to hell

like las vegas, the city of sin.

i think that everyone needs to spend
seventeen afternoons in a row playing

the craps table in a run-down las vegas casino
just to get enough money

to travel to the philippines

and sell all of their playstation 1 video games

to people that have never even heard of tony hawk.

if i meet tony hawk in a dark alley im going to shake his hand

and then im going to kiss him on the mouth

and then im going to ask if he wants to trade clothes

and if he says yes

im going to retire.

chris duce

_________________________________________

my hair

its in my face

its hot on my neck

it clogs my drain

it gives me headaches

my mom finds it in the vacuum

it can ruin a kiss

if it gets in my mouth

my friends say they find it

even after i go

my hair, my hair

its everywhere

people compliment it

some even call me repunzel

they say "i'd kill for that kind of hair"

that seems a little drastic

cold blooded murder, for something so bothersome

i cant complain though

and i cant cut it off

because i fear that im like joe

in little women, and that like her

my hair is my one true beauty

aly cain

_________________________________________

i met you on the day you died

i met you on the day you died.

barely knew you for an hour.

if it weren't for careless dads and pools

this day would be less dour.

content with my ipod and tanning oil,

i watched you splash with your friends.

but after a while i got too hot.

that's when we first shook hands.

you asked me my name and told me yours.

you couldn't be more than five.

you showed me the styles you knew how to swim

and how you could almost dive.

it felt nice to make a new friend that day.

i don't get to see kids that often.

don't remember the last time i smiled so much.

i'll admit, your jokes were awesome.

or maybe it was just the life in you.

kids have a magic about them.

they charm with the simplest laugh or smile,

tools they use to evade any problem.

but this day would be different from any before.

at least for this young provo family.

did you hit your head on the side of the pool?

someone may have seen, but not me.

your body was blue and no heartbeat was found.

i watched as your dad kept on praying.

someone made a quick call and soon help had arrived.

i tried but couldn't hear what they were saying.

and sooner or later or i don't know when,

time was all running together,

they announced what i feared more than anything else,

the emptiness in your frail little figure.

i'm sorry for all the games you won't play.

i'm sorry for the girls you won't kiss.

i'm sorry for parents who will never forget

the vivacious son that they miss.

and now i sit and write by myself

about things that i don't understand.

why some of us live and some of us die

and who draws this master plan.

lindsay erickson

_________________________________________

7/30/2009

as i return to where i lost and then found myself i start to question if this journey will be as productive as others. i am further built than any previous moment, but some of the foundation has cracked...and what i have lost has crumbled and there are no hands of retraction to reach into the chasms of the past to piece me back together as i was. i will make an attempt to build on what remains until one day this top heavy soul topples down on my legacy beneath me. through the wreckage i hope those i love piece together a puzzle that creates the concrete story of (my name).
aug 30 1984-

erik fullmer

_________________________________________

there is so much that is wrong with the world

and yet there is so much, so much that is right

the cool air blowing on my face and legs in my 105 degree car

the juicy watermelon that somehow quenches
my thirst and hunger at the same time

the cards i made for my sisters
that somehow make me feel
like i'm not so far away from them anymore-

there is so much, so much that is right with the world

it just takes a little more to see it.

bianca merkley

_________________________________________

gravedigger diction; or, a note to the kid
that sits in the back of my english class

your deep, slow, expressionless voice
that i first heard when you volunteered
to read creon's part in "antigone" out loud

is exactly like the one i imagine hearing when i die,
and death arrives in my bedroom
with his scythe and billowing black cloak.

my hope, though, is that your voice is not the only trait
you and the stealer of souls have in common;
the more similarities the better, really.

for example, i hope to find him rocking nervously back and forth
obviously unsure how to start the conversation -
wringing his hands, then stuffing them in his pockets.

i assume death will be accompanied by a cold wind.
if this lifts his cloak a bit, i want to see over-sized tennis shoes.
i want thick white socks bundled around his skinny ankles.

and above all (please, please, pleeaase), i want so badly
for him to explain the details of my imminent fate
entirely through references to star wars.


luke 19:5

how did he
know it's me
in this tree?
he must be
the only
son of he -
he who we
say made seas,
rocks and bees,
and this tree.


story #5

this is a story about the 23 inch pizza my friends ordered. that's race-horse size. it's the pizza version of trying to give a piggyback to a person giving a piggyback to a person giving a piggyback to a person. i can't remember all the toppings they got on it and the story would be better if i did remember. there were peppers. other than that, i don't remember. but it was for sure more than just peppers.

i got cheese sticks and didn't finish them. the end.

austinrory hackett

_________________________________________