I can see myself
wrapped in puzzles
around press fingers
getting headline blues

all things considered
to be but the obvious
shackled jaw thought
arouse away innocense

furtive turns commercial
valiant and outragous
open the mail bag
dad sends love

he who holds a camera
may use it for protection
the pencil's been your sword
the words' stab new direction

the mighty mouth has groan
let the wind blow this as so
even trees do bend in pain
and the sky cries out in rain

horns carry clouds of gold
the rams turn to dust
fall do the masks of fate
for time is never late
when the meek sigh
relief.

by L. HONAS

slip me into your little pockets
carry me away with you
for the sea returned the lost forgottens
when salty waves again turned blue
the forward path was carved with notches
the mind had not yet dried the glue
you knew
they knew
plead forgiveness
follow through

somewhere in these private rooms
we created those changing moods
ecstatic sirens or silent dooms
forever these vital senses loom

candy eyes and an edible smile
so looking good with a face that's in style
until you rub all away the smoothness of a child
to reveal worn out wrinkles distancing miles

with fright
and fire
the passionate liar
will elevate emotion, while
it uses him on the side
for secret service to fahrenheit

maybe then
will love descend
catapulting hearts
to quiet forest parks
the summer sets
warm as moon
by the time set in
be fire, glowing monsoon

I can see it now
as they said it then
you'll have your fun
when the work will end
the hairs on the back of your neck will bend
when electric animalistic chemical waves come in

-LUKAS COHEN.

I remember also, once there was a kid in my school who always peed his pants. Sorry Charlie, I'll call him. Carried a big duffle bag strapped around him to hide his wet spots on his pant legs. poor fellow. I always tried to talk to him, and make him feel comfortable, pretending I didn't smell the lingering hot pee smell looming aroung him. He studdered too. I think he was also in those "special," as they call it, classes for slow learners. Really he was just a genious. The teachers and other students never knew or cared, trying to know, that this was so. In reading class we watched movies like the original Romeo and Juliet, including the fast-forwarded nudity parts, by our teacher Mr. Saint A'more. wow what a name! I called him mr SAy NO More, because he never really said much. During the movies, Charlie would often figit with something; a pen in his mouth, picking his nose, uneasy in his chair, drawing pictures. He always passed the tests though, even when I tried and sometimes failed. He was scared to touch, or examine the animals, insects, or reptiles in the science labs too. The first and youngest animal rights activist in our school. Some days, more than others, he would go home early because of a said sickness, which was actually fear and anxiety of other kids who picked on him. I found it hard not to want to extinguish the bullies that had these insecurities and desires to beat up on kids like Charlie. and Sheeka, and Tanjiu, and Laura. But for the most part, I was one like them, too little, and scared and quiet, and confused to do anything but be their friend...I think, now, they're all models, artists, or doctors. HA!

Last night I met a girl and tried to make small conversation in the little Italian I know. She goes to the university like everyone. She studies. He studies. They all study or work the days and out the nights. She asked what I do. Do I go school as well? What am I doing here. Well, now that's a mighty giant question to ask anyone on their first meeting. But I thought about it and said no, I don't attend a school of any sort. I'm just an artist. Alone. Here in Italy. Ummmm, traveling, living, undecided. Yeah, I'll take that route. I've always been the one who everyones waiting for at the gas station pit stops, back inside trying to decide weather I want the trail mix or a bag of chips. My passengering friend added, "the good life" with a distant look. That phrase took me by surprise and I drove on with that it my head for a few minutes realizing, it's totally true. Don't knock on wood, but think that way. It humbled me. I'm thankful. Greatful to whomever, and everyone along all the paths. I rumbed my eyes, and they turned red and blurred my vision into the reality that is these days and times we're in. Aye, I don't know what I'm trying to say, but this phrase broke a new outlook. Sometimes I'm a selfish idiot unrealizing the fruit of my labors is this.wooah.

Tonight, shuffled into the two-man elevator, down 11 flights, out the door, around the corner, bar insalateria, filled up with fasion-types, maybe I'm one of them, called on a beverage, and began to be only slightly amused.Feeling a bit on the low end this evening. Wrote a little poem when I arrived back home. Huh? Also I think now, there is an earthquake, or something fierce outside going on...

Rembrandt smoking a cigarette squeezed inside a corner bar.
On holiday from worried decisions for the moment.
A dame that never called back waits for his call instead.
A game of cat and louse.
Ever so studdering the words barely taught.
Through bleeding smoke-filled eyes he gazes the room.
The women that enter capture a piercing reflection.
Seconds like minutes, you're either here now or there forever, forgotten.
Too many bad faces, shudder and drink.
Call in replacements to fill up the spaces.
Outside the window, blows wind indoors, when opening the door.
It's cold, scarf weather neck warmer.
Sulky cheekbones turn pink.
Pouty lips quietly think, on the stone ledge.
Shes not alone, but her eyes are.
Unamused and waiting her man's nightly consumption consumed.
To go home in a high palace and sleep on her side,
eyes rolled, deserving of gold, but feeling sold.
Old comfortable, unescapable bond of nothing, anymore.
These days, unlike those days-old days.
Now it's all a haze.

-L. MATHERS.
goodnight sweetheart, well it's time you know.

Twilight on the frozen lake / the north wind about to break / on footprints in the snow / and silence down below /
you're beautiful beyond words / your beautiful to me / you could make me cry / and never say goodbye /
because my dreams are made of iron and steal / with a big bouquet of roses, hanging down / from the heavens to the ground /
the crashing waves roll over me / as I stand upon the sand / and wait for you to come / and grab hold of my hand
oh baby, baby, baby, blue / you've changed your last name too / you've turned your hair to brown / love to see it hanging down
-Dylan. Amen.

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