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

_________________________________________

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

_________________________________________

week fourteen

_________________________________________

chola

earlier in the week
i was pretty sure that I needed to go to the doctor

i could just sense it

but the doctor was on vacation, in afghanistan,

searching for religious documents,

and by that i mean his copy of the bible that he'd lent to a friend,

so i called his colleague
who's my uncle, but
he was at the family reunion i wasn't invited to,
so i started watching an episode of gray's anatomy,
cause its a damn good show about the body,

and the cast is brilliant

it reminds me of early episodes of three's company

and a little bit of batman forever

so anyways, i ended up passing out and i just woke up a few minutes ago

chris duce

_________________________________________

untitled

i want to be an actress.

and vegan.

and cool.

and ill probably just end up being a waitress.

and fat.

and awkward.

amber dobson

_________________________________________

double meanings

i've long been warned that girls
will not say what they mean;
know what they want but claim
to want some other thing.

when saying something rude
they're flirting half the time,
and if it's something nice
their true thoughts aren't so kind.

but hid between the words
are clues (some hard to find)
that hold the real intent -
the truth inside the lie.

so what, then, is the hint,
the message i can't see,
in this last text she sent:
"please just stop calling me."


story #3

this is a story about a processing plan in wisconsin... puppy goes in, meat comes out. pony goes in, meat comes out. dolphin goes in, meat comes out. kitty goes in, meat comes out. baby elephant goes in, meat comes out. the end.


picking up megan; or, i don't believe in 747s

flying buses are
entering and leaving

the airspace of
salt lake international.

somehow amidst this
denial of reality

arrives megan morton.
she seems oblivious

to the fact
that she arrived

by some form
of black magic.

austinrory hackett

_________________________________________

valentines day, 2009

as i drive by the homeless man
i notice his sign
"anything will help."

i look to his side to see a
plastic vase with a single pink fake carnation
and baby's breath.

i hate to be cynical, but some people
are way too damn literal.

megan morton

_________________________________________

untitled

smooth sheets cover the bed.

knee up, partially folding in

eyes gazing out.

empty images paint the night scene.

silence penetrates

thoughts clear.

character. sleep.

poetry?

a tensive thumb presses

against uneven teeth

and dries together with his lips.

character. sleep.

mark miller

_________________________________________

call center

seated at her desk

she sighs as she qualifies

and swears at poor leads

the day i learned to stand up for myself

when i was little i had this friend named catherine adams. she was the worst friend ever. she was a year younger than me but she was always bossing me around. no one liked her but she was so intimidating that everyone always did whatever she said. she told us that if we didn't do what she wanted then she would have her older brother come and beat us up. one time we were playing at my house with a couple other girls. catherine decided we were going to play sardines and i was it. i hid for a long time and no one ever came to find me. i finally came out of hiding and when i looked out the window i saw catherine adams riding around on my bike with all my friends. i was so angry. i went outside and started walking towards her. she jumped off my bike and threw it down on the pavement. she started making fun of me and calling me bad words but i just kept walking closer to her and when i got real close i pushed up the sleeves on my pink sweatshirt and i punched her in the face! the look on her face was priceless. her nose started bleeding and she told me her brother was gonna beat me up. i told her that if she sent her brother over here then i would have my brother beat up her brother. so she started to cry and ran home. and i laughed out loud in disbelief and joy and complete satisfaction with the world.

lindsay erickson

_________________________________________

...

that wall looks perfect from upside down

my boots, tripod, camera bags

both calendars, climbing shoes, ballet shoes

mess of bags

theiveried road bumps declaring friendship

like a picture. it all looks perfect like a picture

except from upside down when the floor

is the ceiling i can see the innacuracies

sarah cutler

_________________________________________

hey, i don't think you're hot anymore...

++anonymous++

_________________________________________

untitled

i wore a white dress to church today
and i didn't get asked out on a date
maybe next time i won't wear a dress
at all

breanne chipman

_________________________________________

shark week tshirt ideas

tupac sharkur

bull shark obama

wild sharks can't be broken

chris crosby

_________________________________________

is that a pencil in your pocket or you just happy to see me

the other day I woke up late for work. i had to make a mad dash out the door so i picked up the pair of pants that were lying on the floor. my rushing nerves subsided as I made my way into the building doors and the day went on as any other day. well it wasnt until about two a clock when i was standing by the copying machine and suddenly i felt something slide down my left pant. no sooner did i look down to find a little piece of white clothe peaking out of the bottom of my pant. before i had a chance to examine it any further it plopped out on the office floor. i came to realize that it was my bottom g from the day before and that it had been making its way down my leg throughout the day.

rich curtis

_________________________________________

week thirteen

_________________________________________

in memory of my dad (1954-2009)

i started missing you in the grocery store.
i am not sure what triggered my sorrow.
maybe it was seeing the little girl that probably has a dad.
or the man that walked by wearing running shoes.
or the crispness of the carrots--
the yellow of the lemons,
the smell of doughnuts
or the sounds of squeaky cart wheels.

or maybe it was all of it.

the grocery store is about as everyday as it gets.
so maybe I cried because I was reminded that
everyday is exactly how long I am without you
and how often I will think of you and miss you.
so I started to cry. not sob, but undoubtedly tears.

I looked up to see a small 17 year old curly hair boy
with a green apron and a name tag.
what could I explain? so I missed you some more,
and soon some of your love and humor surrounded me,
so i looked at this boy tearfully and said,
"I just love good produce."

megan morton

_________________________________________

america: home of the free

in america: land of the brave,
we are free to wet ourselves
at first sight of an enemy.

we are free to worry
about nazis gassing us
through the heating vents,

and are free to board up
the heating vents
to prevent this.

in america: land of opportunity,
we are free to live at mom's
into our thirties

we are free to play second life
while our first one
goes on without us,

and are free to achieve nothing
admirable, praiseworthy,
or noticeable as a result.


billie jean

billie jean is still my lover
she's just a girl who claims that mj's the one,
but the kid is not his son.
she says he is the one,
but the kid's for sure my son.

austinrory hackett

_________________________________________

my face is pressed against a window

the rose-colored glass taunts me with a sing-song voice

sources of comfort, now seeming to know

join in on the joke, and laugh at his choice.

rude.

sara thomas

_________________________________________

band together pink saris

the pink sari gang strikes again!
widows against injustice
left a rapist with 2 black eyes,
the women are tired
and it's been unleashed.
"don't harm that woman, or your ass is ours".
shiva is our empowerment? no!
our single goddess is hot,
therefore, the tension is high
leaving only angry violence as our answer
now we control, so fear the pink sari
all ye rapers, beaters, violators, and dominators
of women.

erik fullmer

_________________________________________

low.as.long

sort of like a disease, but cuter.
death of the poet death of everything just death
death.death.death.death.
its sort of like an obsession. this death
but that day was moss and this
is death. still cute.
tile patterns like beehives in swimming pools
i will drown i've
practiced
in bathtubs alone
. . . . .in public water resorts
. . . . . . . . .i've practiced back
. . . . .towards the sun facing
. . . . . . . . .tiles in a swimming pool
. . . . .eyes open and chlorinated and
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . limp. my death
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .has been done
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .outside of tiles
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .and water, too.
. . . . . it runs exhausted low as long and
. . . . . . . . . . so untraditional a mossy day at death.
while the sun cuts up and wags the sky
across clouds beating drum kicks furious and rapid
i see the sun and swallow it entirely.
lodged in the back of my mouth for
a year and a half and then a new location
to the throat and a lick ride that color was
like moss with caterpillar skin.
and there the sun remains by my
lump of tissue blue and flesh and hopeful of
death with the sun whole and bound as a heart.


untitled

damn the entirety of this circle
each voice is incomplete
each voice is an opinion
damn each opinion

my voice
or an individual voice
is the turn table topic
truth in ink is the topic

individual voice
is not that of a group
is not yours
damn your opinion

this circle of people
is violating
personal creativity

sarah cutler

_________________________________________

myron's observations at the lake

7-18-2009, 12:37pm: a man skillfully maneuvers his late model, extended cab, 4x4 truck backward until the chrome wheels of the boat trailer are swallowed up from the lapping waves of utah lake. at the same moment a girl stands in the boat dutifully prepping the boat for its saturday showcase.

7-18-2009, 12:40pm: the next man skillfully maneuvers his late model, extended cab, 4x4 truck backward until the chrome wheels of the boat trailer are swallowed up from the lapping waves of utah lake. at the same moment the next girl stands in the boat dutifully prepping the boat for its saturday showcase.

7-18-2009, 12:44pm: the next man skillfully maneuvers his late model, extended cab, 4x4 truck backward until the chrome wheels of the boat trailer are swallowed up from the lapping waves of utah lake. at the same moment the next girl stands in the boat dutifully prepping the boat for its saturday showcase.

7-18-2009, 12:50pm: the next man skillfully maneuvers his late model, extended cab, 4x4 truck backward until the chrome wheels of the boat trailer are swallowed up from the lapping waves of utah lake. at the same moment the next girl stands in the boat dutifully prepping the boat for its saturday showcase.

7-18-2009, 12:57pm: the next man skillfully maneuvers his late model, extended cab, 4x4 truck backward until the chrome wheels of the boat trailer are swallowed up from the lapping waves of utah lake. at the same moment the next girl stands in the boat dutifully prepping the boat for its saturday showcase.

7-18-2009, 1:04pm: the next man skillfully maneuvers his late model, extended cab, 4x4 truck backward until the chrome wheels of the boat trailer are swallowed up from the lapping waves of utah lake. at the same moment the next girl stands in the boat dutifully prepping the boat for its saturday showcase.

7-18-2009, 1:09pm: the next man skillfully maneuvers his late model, extended cab, 4x4 truck backward until the chrome wheels of the boat trailer are swallowed up from the lapping waves of utah lake. at the same moment the next girl stands in the boat dutifully prepping the boat for its saturday showcase.

etc.

myron nilsson

_________________________________________

2s and 3s

life can be as simple as choosing-

this or that

here or there

now or later

up or down

right or left

and seclusion exclusion and inclusion

make or break the illusion

of walls made by us and them

you choose

rich curtis

_________________________________________

more than enough

im sure with each child

not just with me,

you wondered if

what you said and did

would ever be enough.

you pulled me through

when we both almost went.

you stood by me during

my twos, when i was terrible.

you taught me what it meant to learn

all through my elementary years.

you held your ground

when i was sure that mine was higher.

you helped put my head on straight

when i thought it looked better crooked.

you were my beam of hope for 18 months

when i had nothing else to hope for.

you reassure me that i should, i can, i will

every time im convinced i shouldnt, cant and wont.

when i think of how to thank you,

each gift i could give pales in comparison

to the gift of life you so graciously gave to me.

be it known mom, that in my life

what you said and what you did

all of it was

more than enough.

aly cain

week twelve

_________________________________________

smokey pay

when you ask a firefighter

if it's going to be a bad forest fire year

are you asking if there'll be lots of fires?

or if it's going to be a bad year

to be a forest firefighter

who doesn't get hazard pay

overtime pay

holiday pay

sunday differential pay

because there are no forest fires to fight?

record amounts of precipitation

for the month of june

means that firefighters are stuck

dressing up like smokey the bear

for the provo/lehi/payson/alpine parades

and before you ask - no,

there is no such thing as smokey pay.

smokey the bear wants you

to start forest fires

trav clark

_________________________________________

imagine dungeons and dragons

my pants don't fit no more

maybe its cause i eat ez take out burgers all the time and

delicious milk shakes from del taco

or maybe its cause the pants i wear

are ones i stole

from the boys and girls club before they laid me off

wow im poor now and if anyone wants to help me pay

my utility bill

let me know

chris duce

_________________________________________

blessed autotrophs

light makes by carbon fixation
a forest out of air,

a small part of which becomes a
red coil-less notebook of

micro-perforated sheets that
holds a few of my poems.


break dancing

step to the music.
hand in hand
hand to back
step turn step.
eye contact.
smile.

i twist her arm sharply
out of socket

pop!

she kicks my knee backwards
against the bone

snap!

austinrory hackett

_________________________________________

dear artists,

great photography + boob guest appearances = not my favorite photography. it really hurts when i find some gnarly photographers who do it for me, then end up throwing me a curveball with their completely unnecessary theme of "the girls". i get it. it's natural. edgy. beautiful. artistic. whatever. but come on. we all know what they look like. let's set our sights outside of the boobie box. there's plenty of other body parts that are potentially photogenic. for instance, feet. or maybe even faces. now, i understand that we all have the right to free press. expression. art. i also get that our bodies are magical things that we should love and appreciate. and i do. but perhaps bude art should be left to the painters? not the self proclaimed hipsters who think that their last addition of that nipple was just what the project needed? i don't know. these are just ideas.

best regards,

ifiwanttoseethemilltakeashower

_________________________________________

satan is pretty smart

i want instant gratification.
i hate saving up for things.
i want them now.
i dont care if he will hurt me later
i love him now.
i dont care if this is fattening
it tastes good now.
i hate that it feels good now
and later feels wrong.
i know ill be tired tomorrow
but right now i want to stay up.
i want to be happy now.
i wont bother about yesterday
and tomorrow is too far.
ill do anything, for right now.
anything.
anything?
satan is pretty smart.

aly cain

_________________________________________

they're running out

they're running out

they're running out

they're running out of batterrrrrrryyyyyy

ha

ha

ha

ha

ha

ha

ha

ha

ha

ha

no batteries!

++anonymous++

_________________________________________

small talk with a new neighbor

oh hi.

yeah, just getting home from work.

it is hot, isn't it? well, have a...

oh. really? 115 degrees? a puddle of your own sweat? no kidding.

i didn't know it got that hot in 'nam.

well, i guess i shouldn't complain then.

see you...what was that?

yes, i guess i do a fair amount of shopping.

yeah, i guess you're right. a cold pack really might help me out.

well, it was sure nice meeting you.

sara thomas

_________________________________________

indians migrate? gone? or i'm never going to? or killed? in limbo? love you... oh, u!!!

dane cannon

_________________________________________

i sang with a gospel choir tonight

it was an unforgettable experience

there was no way that I could possibly blend in
so i decided that i had to be comfortable being different-

comfortable being myself.

i was the only 'white' person in the whole show

i sounded different,

looked different,

worshipped different-

but i felt a strange impression

that i was there for a reason-

breaking through invisible barriers that keep too many apart.

bianca merkley

_________________________________________

i am a man, but i once gave birth to an angel.

++anonymous++

_________________________________________