Andrew K. Peterson

Birdland

for Kevin Kilroy

just so long as there are some that joyously scatter itself

are you stronger than zinc, lighter

the teapot swallowing steam buds

prodigies and ‘Mercy, Mercy, Mercy’

on museum steps, waiting for a course  

of action in smocks of cellophane

we can meet there, dial up digressions

as bumper a mating season,

winter moths abut the carbon lake

with witty and urbane kickstops,

sweet some things they can’t say on the Wide World of

sorts we’re out of when visiting a ruin

sit there spaced out uninformed in

uniforms     don’t know all I want to know

is that it happened, none of it a cause

is a part, am biological, nor discordant

warm Novembers in backseat blue smoke

could that be who, unknown, thought at

as a thin set of coulds cloud ferries

east or out to birdland for the weekend or

up street to add some fixes to the contra nozzle  

a bow is never over being done,

no different from houses’ horizonless commence

***

The Great Navy from the State of Vermont

Rapture’s deep closed gold

Smell of a kiss lean-to a tactile preferring Billie

Holliday Sundays, the opening umbrella bird

Monster was more joke than sympathy flower

A 32 oz. black crest with retractable wattle –

A pure King Leo scrimping on the bubble

I need a balm, a skull cap

Flowers beside the pool

A quarter shade lighter

The Great Navy from the State of Vermont

Spirit burned up on reentry

Unintended charges

Spaced across interchanging stints

What a lovely husk

What vile jolt as it happens again

For this is the hour of visitors

Peel back the difference and dare the moon to blink

A beacon to that great coffin of eyes

Banking back to forestry mathematics

Where I’m a moat torn easier from continual diversions

A blind almond remainder in the heat of your hand

A voice that says both

“we are starved” and “we are not geometry”

***

***

Volodymyr Bilyk

Symbolic Prepared Piano

Dean Faulwell

The Sea

The sea is too

ours to be let go

of wave by wave

(too ours to be

allowed to 

grow old

in its bones,

buried by a 

dog of doubtful

ancestry).  We have

sanded the edges

of our sea,

smoothing

the way to eternity.

***

***

Laura Young

Tacking Right and Left

Stephen Ellis

Thus Brain Turns Head Often Slowly to the Left : Six Fast Sonnets [08 July 2011]

I thought I was drowsy but in waking saw my sleep was wrong


[ Post-Lenten Summer Breeze Up Early from the River ]

We who no longer are a “we” increase
within the smaller focus of a backyard
domain where flowers are even smaller
and wild still for having just come in
where no one prevented either spore
or root from growing first down in under
surface that is both death and the living
sheath from which it draws itself out upon
the clear edge of both horizon and human
skin each of which break down but
always up again as well in freshening up
as blue sky for every wastrel that can
breathe where life bangs lightly into itself
in the crush of mint where flowers bob





[ In Bite of Oceanic Sky where Yellow Sunlight Sprightly Writhes ]

The horizon's wire burns from blue to
white to final orange and hail to every
onlooker in the embassy of their separable
selves where some small heat is left to
humors gone snowy for a moment in rank
pale yellow grass where we take a stand
as if in the mild windy chill of a turquoise
watercolor caught in the constant virgin
pools of our seeing eyes in lovely if also
rather dim regard of our earth as it remains
a parcel yet to open to our feet as when
we walk upon its lavender particularities
shown in muddy thought that grows flames
that way forever bathed and green and bright





[ Always Happier Bathed the Way of Optimum Cloud ]

We know the function of silver nerves
along the means by which the happy arm
moves itself like bees that suck the tide of
leaping flower upon flower from nights to
morning daisy smoke and swim think mists
among the towering pines that grow upside
down within our hearts in thought and passion
lettered in pledge to aether made to shimmer
orange and blue sherbet ice of northern
lights out upon the crest of body's harmless
gentle 'plash that knows of stone and limit
that holds the water to the place of darling
sounds and fluid gone in life to make a place
through which to release your giving breath





[ Give Me Breath to Make My Peace Exhale ]

In the house and from the other side
the cooing of grey mourning doves inside
the thistled wild cucumber drape about
the entrance to the garden calm that always
is and isn't what everything comes to be
about no final outline but what undulating
comes to combat little secret farts of vain
conceit where what one wants against
the all that's tantamount to tonal relaxation
comes to be a trestle bridge of angel light
laid on every head while first blurt morning
crows go venturing where vision grows
barley peas and greens and shines with
refrigerated splendor bracketing the gloom





[ Let's Stretch Out on the Loom of Combat Pay ]

Or that we can't fight fighting it and just
must stay at home in then garden weeds as
spruce smells soar and my foot hurts from
walking all day too much around contraries
that make the music library sing of so what
whole thing nourishment and floundering
among fingers of time like popsicle ice gone
smitten along a tongue's complex regalia's
gentle noon smack breeze across tidy world
pictures of sigh crypts and puzzlement over
just what work and whose lips might be exempt
from kissing from dawn through charry
dusk and night's charmed calm yet metrical
through audible love's sweet interpolation





[ Skill But Paled by Certain Flight of Some Ancient Martin's Song ]

Then always white rump and underparts with
forked tail and bluish head and back for there is
no foe bountiful enough to prevent clear
streams from springing up and furrowing
recalcitrant soils where limbs move and stars
go uninterrupted by day unseen yet perfectly
present also lit when even just opening a can
or finding accidental shoelace curled in blue
grass candle-lit by dusk the common and most
fair part of what the heck do we know but to
participate endure and be this thing of not
destroying sense by letting it just hang like
white laundry in the stark shade of such earlier
places and times as are no longer here with us





***

*** 

Laura Young

Setting the Course

Aurora Margrethe

ai0(A.M)

Felino A. Soriano

from  Of isolated limning

appertaining

time-veneration

            valued accolade

alternate finding this thesis of unspoken                                            pellucidity

                        naturalized envelop

surge of serenade

            embracing shapes of contoured revelations

            loud though secure in the inclusionary freedom this              pageantry

instills

                                               

                                                                        apert

                                    ranges and

unordinary seams

                                                mimesis qualitative venture

incorporating self in the vision of whole dimensions

***

invention or the subtlety of illusion

                        rest suspends corporeal fundamentals

desire or

the purposes of endeavor rewind

                                                in contextual meander the mind’s oval flatness

insinuates culture or the ignition to connect (grouped)

                                    thus

                             endeavor

                    or indecent (unknown)

            systems of

naturalized connectivity to the self’s purposeful implantation

                                                                                    unrecognized by the physiognomy of

truth’s misrepresented fallacy,

simulated

***

comparison

the violin of skin alternates phrases

amid serenade of angles’

origami privileges

            streaks of kinetic purples find pluralized births

atop

language’s

warmth and water submerged faculty of illusion’s achromatic need

*** 

in view or dedicatory limpidity

tableaus incorporate distance’s calligraphy

calibrating the eye into            role      beyond           

            visible veneration

a

                        systemic acclimation   slim      or whole

regarding tonal timekeeping expositions, the

                                    range of piano                         slides in / on scaled definitional

fury

lending eye

or the partial of fractioned centimeters’

center

seer

sidenote secrecy

                                                            or the subjective component of a whisper’s

language of dedication

***

considered

intuitive responses

resulting paradigm

persuading frequent

penetrative faculties—

harmless or the fiction of

determination

            altered calling onto

beautified

                        tension away

or alleviated meander this thought

appendage portends

***

***

Laura Young

Breaking Off