Heather Haley

Peg Duthie

I HEAR YOU WITH HALF OF MY HEART

(after Kyo's "Le Chemin," covered by Les Enfoirés)

The wind shreds apart the spine of your song
even before you let go of its words.
You might as well be shouting to yourself,
pounding thorns into your own palms.

O lover, I'd give neither a fig nor a damn
for your punctured walls, your ruptured veins
but how (god damn) you are under my skin.

You hiss, "Je te hais de tout mon corps."
I hear, "Je te vais de tuer mon coeur" --
or is it "je te vais de tuer, mon coeur"?
If hate could kill, the grit of your ashes

would have scratched up my eyes
long before these latest vowels
began as a burn in your throat. O love,

only the whole wide world is between
your lips and mine, all of it crumbling
into commas, fishhooks, and quarter-rests:
I taste your fire in the ghost of your breath.

Joanne Merriam

SELF-SUFFICIENCY

breaking your own heart

Ellaraine Lockie

ROCK BAND TOUR

The contract requires
fur-lined handcuffs
and flavored condoms
for the lead singer in London

The four female string players
in anti-sexist mode
order vibrators for Milan

On arrival at their hotel room
one purple penis shape
protrudes from a basket holding fruit
bottled water and biscotti

Consequent arbitrations
place the piece of plastic onstage
in the percussion section

Where its middle C purrs
can be proportioned
in equal measures

Don Kingfisher Campbell
NOTES

I Wanna Go To The Sun
where I don't have to worry
about paying the rent

Shine on me with the music
of the spheres far away
from orthodontic bills

I'm Feeling Alive Again
forgetting what obligates me
to buy gallons of gas

I've got a Reason To Believe
I'll live long enough in this
universe to unneed a single body

Through instrumental Aperture
I rediscover my spirit
in tones without tangibility

Jeffry Jensen

THE AGING ROCKER

The years strike an amusing blow as
blotches of talent only mimic a mastery
that once tore at the roots of an impulse.
This vintage impulse now has turned vulgar on fertile youth.
The aging rocker takes refuge in a continuous
night that swirls with a captive beat.
He must play off of charity and indifference as
he longs for a forgotten lover to fill a feather bed.
With a brandy for courage, he thrives in
the sanctuary of a wobbly whitewashed stage.

Ed Houston

PUFF-PUFF

Puff-Puff here
Puff-Puff there
Puffin’ in the daytime, Puffin’ through the night
Puffin’ becomes a career, no other goal in sight

Peeking out the windows, everyone’s a cop
Everybody’s watching you, they know you hit the Rock
Puffin’ with Barcardi, 151’s the lick
Winding up with car antennas and a flick of the Bic

Puffin’ in the doorways with your back against the wind
Puffin’ in the alleyways behind those green trash bins
Ducking in that empty house to join the puffers there
Hoping someone will want to piece up, spend their last bus fare

Playing the pick up game, Oh yeah! You know the one where you crawl around on the rug
Scoring points for picking lint, white pebbles and dead bugs.
Most ladies just start out being puffers, but eventually they’ll fall
To sucking pricks and turning tricks in somebody’s car or behind some wall

But let’s not leave out the men who started puffing to be slick
Puffing to get the girls and rock their world, then leave ‘em and call ‘em sick
Men who started out being hunters, hunting “strawberries” by the score
Ending up giving blowjobs or with their butt up, head to the floor

Alcohol has a Spirit, cocaine and heroin too
Eventually the Spirit of your drug of choice will totally possess you
And the times you choose to use will no longer be up to you
Your obsession will say All the time, and there’s nothing you can do

Puff-Puff here
Puff-Puff there
If you’re a Puffer you know what I say is true
And if you’ve tried ALL ELSE, I know what will work for you

They’re the Steps 1 through 12, and they’ll work just fine
Because they’re based on the changing of your mind
But you’ll need Spiritual help to bring about this change
Allah, Buddha, Krishna just to name a few, but for me, the Lord Jesus is His name