Jamie

Kyra

been awhile I know you’re just a thought now,

Sewn together with stream of memories that we might have had.

I know you’re just the dream inside of a dream

And don’t worry; I know I don’t know you, anymore.

I hope cement city hasn’t broken you down yetChiseling away at the blurred lines of your adolescence Calculating each algorithm for you to follow without question Only if you knew what you’ve been missing out on

Soak filled summer rains whirling words wildly through the Appalachian Mountain air asking where you’ve been?

Wrecking bridges with red roars of bloody heart shaped positivity keeps humming for your company in the form of an anthem, in which my tagging repertoire is dedicated Solemn bodies sprawled across the morning mist awoken by musicWhat a wonderful way to wakeWay to vibrate Way to get wrapped up in the act of livingAct of traveling An active faith that we will meet againSo until then create, make, and come back with stories.

by Kyra

ouch that hurt a bit.i look down, brush off the dirt and realize my foot is gone, stuck in the root i tripped on. i look down and realize i’m missing everything. i look back and, sure enough, there are the rest of my body partsthat i hadn’t even noticed were gone.i go back to collect them, apologizing profusely to each one and then scolding them, ordering them to work together next time so i don’t fall apart. they laugh at me, saying i have yet to find my mind.

clusterfuck

Poem & Photo by Elizabeth Hunyor

Celebrity Shot

C i t y S c a p e sKansas City shouldered my fall.

Sushi bars & high school friends don’t mix quite as well as

hoped & don’t you remember that time at the berry patch

I don’t quite. Took your favorite books...sorry.

Key West didn’t even try.

Sucha poser...let me down. Hemingway’s House? Rainy

days & I got to experience women with scruff for the

first time. What a drag...

But Santa Juanita bat her brown eyes.

Big argentine beauts to pass the days away at sea.

Swept me under, held me down. But I had to flush

my lungs with amerikan air too quickly.

Ocean Shitty: SAND ALL GRITTY!

Boardwalk harassing blonde with gnarly waves of

kewl-kid youth roaming PlankCity. Redeemed herself

with moon-crab walks & cool sand of midnight.

( but /didn’t say Toledo was a whore )

Tzfat was treat with all his hidden streets that kept me wanting more

mysteriously whispering words into my ears, “don't leave me dear”

the wondrous woes forced me to move from his grasp...

felt like broken glass

Palmer kept me down to earth with the swooshing, sweating, silly

work within the mountain spirit air.

Sun never seem to set in the foggy heaven breath

you’re the type of boy i’ll never forget

Portland the last time I saw your torn up combat boots they were attempting to

“walk away from the empire”, as you put it. The original hipster!

You WERE SICK of the sea, Although mindful of the Mountains

And broke as a joke was harder than expected....hela rad

Jerusalem we never kissed, but don’t let your conservative values send you amidst

you’ve gotten around eternally having a sexual mound of coming visitors

I wish your wondering eyes could have spoke less of lies

but hell shit happens

[( but / didn’t say Hudson was a Prick )]

DUMB DOGGY MANIFESTOWe will bring you our words with or without boundaries, inside of drywall, termite mounds & anywhere with walls to break through. We will write of events that may or may not have taken place, setting the domino charge of existential cause & effect in new motion. We will live off the beauty of the sun, beams streaking through lilac hair & corn stalk shin bones. We will join you for pillow talk only if you promise to speak to us in tongues. We will love at the wrong times & die at the right time.

Will you struggle to speak eloquently about something so simple yet beautiful? Never

Will you speak simply about something so simple yet beautiful? Or die trying

Each is storyteller...words live within all. We who place them like puzzle pieces arranged into sentences see hints of the pattern of humanity. We are a youth with voices too loud to keep silent. So we will scream; living, pleasure-seeking & hungry.

We have no agenda but Truth, whatever that means... But possibly expose: -uh, nothing, about -anything ever, really. -sorry to bother...

We’ve been hearing a lot about some word called Love & we’ll probably write about that too. It’s past five so we can crack open a beer & figure this world out.

Sometimes I will look at you with eyes like lips & ask: Do you forgive me? You might say no & I might shrink to the size of an ant’s eyelid & blow off into the sunset breeze. Where will I find my mind during times like these? Where will you find your mind during times like these? We will write more questions than answers, more guidance & less force.

The lakes of the sky have been blackened by tarry night & don’t you see the islands of clouds pulled by the tides? One Eye to see the world through billions of lenses, each tuned to its own frequency...the frequency of those burnt-out stars reading us like bumps of braille on Earth’s own paper & we are the builders-but not the demolition crew. There is no hope in changing the fingertip language of our Blind-God. But this is where writing comes from, speaking even when the audience cannot feel.

Why do girls only kiss us in the late moonlight hours? Is it the words? We hope not. Blanketed eyes hang intently on the language of bodies, not syllables.

We are a youth of layers-in-moss, nirvana snapshotters. grass-growers, verbal recorders, song-singers & spotlighters. We are a cave-painting youth. We will splatter your eardrums with our noise. We might choose to focus more on immediate experience vs trying to jot every Word down. There’s Truth behind our stories- but many not that much. We all live on the same planet so shut up & act like it. We have not lost all Hope...

PT. 1

There is an inner self w/ in the who, again? The photograph had already been taken in. There was a salty hint to the breeze in the shallow hills of Appalachia. [but we had been the bot-tom back then]. An appropriate response to the absence of

abolishment of iphones and android computer phones. We who hear the music in our heads & hope to whatever/s out there that we will find someone to share this moment in my life {{i have fallen too hard for you}}

but in whatever universe that i would like is one with Tuesday belongings, and such? //POST EMO// there is an inner self w/ in the who, again? (This was a statement that could probably make almost everybody in the world believe you were nothing but pieces of skin they needed to

pluck from in front of their eyeballs.) {{i am sorry for remembering}} I AM IN A DREAMLAND NOW & SOMETIMES THEN too. COME BE IN MY DREAMLAND too.

but only if you want to …..

went all the way down to this part of the page & here we are screaming & maybe trying to swallow the muscles inside us, i wont forget tomorrow len you want me to??

for some reason i thought i could use the lowercase eye for INFINITY but there’s no symbol for that kind of love light yuv’ got there!!

??&isweartoGODakidispukinginmybathroomtoilet

cambria[body]is being a bitch right now. I WANT TO STOP WRITING & READ naked lunch INSTEAD!

this keyboard mess is dripping on my hat & the sounds are of april. there is nothing that can come of this could make [us] you the culprit? there is the sound of stomping passageways & don’t we wish we could maybe try to understand why they’d bother finding you THE GUY (exposed in Tues-day yearnings for the first half of the week.) i’m sorry that i troubled u w/ my sleek tricks & don’t youthink it’s a little bit easier to just forget the whole thing happened & begin again. //let’s begin again//

Jym: hi my name is Jym don’t forget all them EVERYONE ELSE: ok

this is a version of things I would not mind happening to me & maybe u

(too) (too)??

this is a version of things i would not mind happening to me & maybe u

The movement, a kiss of toxic beauty, an addiction

The smoke extracts intellect from my awareness to yours coming in from my nose out through my mouth. We speak of worldliness and what our parents taught us. We spray paint each other’s thoughts on our unwrinkled dirt-filled skin We want to raise eyebrows and say offensive things, but mostly to the closed mind simpletons. We blackout back in to the relationships we wanted to end. We wonder and rival for our next love to begin We are CRAZED by the present therefore we climb roofs and scream out of windows hoping, wishing someone somewhere will hear us. We’re the eccentric generation connected every which way by the satellite signals running throughout veins. We need kickers for weekend starters, we need kickers to work harder Mason jars full of dragon juice mixing and match of drugs in the pursuit of clarity We play melodies wildly with the intent to reach a higher meaning We use the same fingers, rolling rapidly over the piano keys, to roll up joints with equal enthusiasm. We collaborate frequencies to heart beats to generate the flames that burn the eyelashes, brush the soul, and keep causing us to write more. I’m drowning in a pool of inspiration.

Why do all my friends smoke cigarettes?

Poem & Photo by Kyra Willner