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Sepia
after Guy R. Beining 6X6 (12)
on an empty night lit page
he looked for her
a magnifying glass
his yellow teeth tombed
in the fog and gurgle he saw
the background
the smell and sound
meat and instrument
the cunning waited there
she rehearsed with the dead
she performed
turned fingered boulders
into an armory of fungo
dragged glittered puppets
to imago
none of the winged rested para her paper
first the boy tried to hide
then, they
switched radios and heads
with swans
crumpled worlds in the page
just one more note
to feed dead script
he penned the page
jet looped blue lye and rubbed
prayer knees
there's a girl with a cold halo
and nothing, but listen lips.
with the air silent the girl wears
a shower skull and tries to hide
the ring, but each shoulder wave
brings up a glimpse.
her mind is a fight or colored veins,
and her mouth is filled
with a cloven-sore tongue.
the girl's lips
map silently, stem-tied fingers
draw stiffly.
girl,
a way to sever gift,
amoeba and platelets,
of things that lift
I do not know.
Lime
after Claims of Unmanned Aerial Vehicles by James Wagner
her mouth tracks in neighbor snow
her legs subdue sugar,
information, names
she kills all the women
so they don't have to themselves
what to make of her dream
the start button is winter
as it fits in a yard
she must keep up the season
autumn is impatient
a buttress of pillowed unrest
she smiles the holiday camera
she may be wrong
prints of 8X10 unlock walking
shirt blown open
the touching between us
shiny boots shine
into mine water
shiny boots oh boo
for you who walk
and not gurgle not flow
not carry for you
stand on land
you cover and cradle
are fashion and well you shine
walk over here to me
to water walk on me
for my world is wet and yours sturdy
don't make me love you
shine as only one as one
shine shine as a slide in the park
the wind will connect us enough
a window along this bank that peaks us
our moment
okay
let's have more, step in, and color me shiny
rest on my organs
announce to me the day
or color announce that your hair
is in a locket around my neck
and that is all you are
a lock of dark and greasy
and at rest on my organs
if not
announce to me
that you're sitting on the moon
and that reflection works
announce to me my weather
of orange blizzards
and that you can make out
the colorful intersection
Cheetos bags on my lawn
nothing that disintegrates
announce that bicycles are back
with beads of rainbow on the spokes
and that parallel parked cars
frame my house
unable to move
announce that you
can see me
tell me that space is quiet and I am a good view
tell me that satellites move closer every day
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Julie Strand writes poetry that reflects family, place and other atmospheres. Most of her time is spent working and learning at Woodland Pattern Book Center in Milwaukee, WI where she is the Education Coordinator. Her poetry has been published in Wicked Alice, Arsenic Lobster, Rock Heals (A Narrow House Weekly), and smaller publications in Milwaukee. |
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