June | Liz Pascoe

I'll never forget the way you fit in my rear-view mirror as I left your house. Rain freckled your face and hand, blurring your complexion before I could say good-bye.

Money Rain | Josh L. Fowkes

a puddle shutters
a rain drop gasps
mr. president relaxes
thinking of green
i flatter

tomorrow whispers
green mirages fight
a poor man wanders
thinking of when
i give

out|Brad Barton

In the cold of mountain snow
A snow cave
Of honest work
Was built in desperation of survival
Inside
A lost man
Stricken with chill
The only hope for survival
Is a fire

The tired snow walls
Begin to fail
Until the cave collapses
Under depression and snow
The man digs up and out
To find
The clouds have gone
The sun is warm
It is warm out side

Walking|Stacie Morris

I walked through a tunneling trail
Into a large and copious four way.
The ways painted of timely white,
And traveling to a whimsical flight.
Where all can be lost and found in a day,
Where many are famous to fail.
Turning a blur in the walls of my mind,
Gone to places fallen behind.
Nothing comes of looking to the last,
The ease of hope on a faded path.

Feet | Amy Loveless

I often wonder,
“What ever did I do
Without my new shoes?”
Target kept them so long!
They did not care
Whether I was the one
To buy them
There were hundreds of people
Who hadn’t even tried them,
But when I saw them
Lying there so carelessly
I knew I must try them
If only for awhile.

They fit me quite well,
Though the sides pinched a bit
And they hurt
When I wore them
After wearing the old,
But with time
We adjusted
Both my new shoes
And me.
Never
Have I had
Any happier of feet.

Common | Felicia Phillips

Just a little too tight,
clinging around my finger.
Hurting a little,
only removable with water.

Just a little too dark,
outlinging my pale skin.
Making it itch,
like it was burnt.

Just a little too special,
a phrase I can't forget.
Only made for me.
Chizzled in, permenant.

Just a little unique,
someone helped me find it.
It is mine.

Fitting | Matthew Clegg

The shirt fit the boy perfectly.
Not just in size, but the color matched his eyes.
Anywhere he went the boy knew,
How good he looked with it,
And his confidence grew.
It was his favorite shirt.

Time passed on, and the boy changed as folks do.
Not just in size, but personality too.
The boy, now a young man, was sorting old clothing,
When he found in the drawer his favorite shirt from before.
Though he had changed, the shirt had not,
It was quite different from the clothes he presently bought.
“And yet,” thought the man “isn’t it strange?
If the shirt were the style and color I like now,
It wouldn’t fit me anyhow.”

Found|Kristi Wright

Carefully placed toes and hesitant heels,
Slide fearfully into the overgrown garden.
Masked thorn and hissing vines
Hide behind a pleasant facade.
Stinging gasps from clever spikes
Make quivering muscles tense
While adjusted weight and nimble
Fingers release the captured flesh.

A renewed stance backed up by fulfilling
Breath bring firm reassurance into place,
While stubborn site searches
Across the savage growth.
A flashing white from deep within
Breaks through the bondage heap
And shows for all the armored shell
To protect tender feet.
No longer smothered and hidden
Or carelessly shoved aside,
The shoe now takes up stance
And guards the easily injured soles.

Found poem | J.D. Olenslager

Sandbox

I don’t know
if you played in the sandbox
or uncovered any green
army men buried there
by your older brother--
heads partially blown off,
stiff green legs pocked and twisted
by the silver lead of a Daisy
b.b. gun and firecrackers
that had been planted in sand.

Years later I watched him
parade across the asphalt at Camp Pendleton
in his drab, green uniform and salute
officers with the other young Marines.
My mother said he had changed,
but I knew about all the black-cat
explosions and guns in the sandbox.
It was me who found the graveyard
of plastic men he had massacred
in our backyard.

Your face | Jeni Cannon

I finally found my glasses.
I was walking around blind for weeks.
I'd trip over rocks, and I couldn't read road signs.
Reading the board in class was impossible.

Now that I can see,
My own hands look more beautiful than anything.
And I think I liked looking at you without my glasses on.

Simple Joys | James Landon Buie

I was philosophizing arduously;
My hands rumbled my pocket for some gum.
Taking a piece, I placed it right on my tongue,
To sooth my intellectual rigor.
I chomp and I chomp and I chomp
Till blueberry sensation becomes a bore.

I drop my gum like an old war bomb;
My mere fun foot swoops to kick.
Launched into the air, my alluring eyes grow gigantic
As they watch it hit the ground.
I grin my blue colored lips,
Close my ecstatic eyes,
And laugh within when I think,
All intellects should kick their chewed
Flat gum.

No Man | Sara Staheli

Five lone earrings
Of varying style and appeal.
Each without its mate.
Each with a story
Of lobes,
Tangled hair,
Dangling beauty
Reflected in light.
Lying on sidewalks,
With grass blades,
By dirt clods.

Goodness knows
These earrings came by
No accidental discovery.
I found them.
I kept them.
I did.
No man
Saw the beauty
Or understood the rapture
In those sharp, subtle instruments
Of glamour.

The Mokie Ball | Katherine Goodell

Red clay dirt
over hundreds of years
had been sitting patiently
while, according to physical
laws, the sand was compressed
and molded into
a ball.

There it was
to the right
still, like Buddha
round and pale crimson
a grainy monument in my hand
into my pocket it sat
rubbing against my thigh
as I walked.

Blue Jeans | Chelsea Lane Campbell

The nine pairs of jeans
sitting patiently in the waiting room of my closet
resemble classic ideals of lovers,
front to front, backs to the world.
Pressing against one another,
Lying together in a dark, private space.

Getting dressed this morning,
I pulled out a neglected pair.
I could see my mother’s handiwork
in their precision folding.
Rather than my lover’s retreat,
she had forced them to accordion in,
hip pushed to hip, knee to knee,
halving themselves,
forming a forced crease down the face.
I gave them a shake.
locking eyes with the pockets I decided,
you know,
They look better this way.

Located | Nikaela Aitken

A fragile milky twine
dangles from my neck-
its rightful place.
Searched for:
Attic
Closet
Dresser
Kitchen drawers
Garage
Garbage.

Found. Back pocket-
it was there all along.

Book | Gregory Burbank

Into the bookstore
What a lark! What a plunge
Into the soft, white lighting
And the warm, rich wood browns,
The heady aroma of coffee
Pervades the atmosphere.
What will I buy today?
Will I know it when I see?
A play, a novel, or anthology?
There, there on the bookshelf
I see you beckoning
Always have been waiting.
What treasure chest of
Black ink lies between
Your attractive covers?

When I first met you--
Ecstatic at my find.
But appearances deceiving
I liked you not at all,
But then I got to know you
The rich treasures that you hide.
I go to you for comfort
And solace in my grief,
For laughter and for memories,
For counsel and for tea.
Never rebuking, always returning
To you to you to you
And to that fateful day we met.

The Next Hill | Tyler Montgomery

The Next Hill

I had been craving
this moment for three days
If only I could go
with my brother I'd be cool
I did, I had fun, If only...

I could win
the game everyone would love
me - I missed the shot
we lost - My dad looked
past my salty cheeks
into my agonized eyes
He hugged me
I am Happy.

Two Covers | Trent Gurney

I knew where it had been
All along.
Finding it only took a little help.
She told me she had seen it,
Somewhere
In the basement.
Right where I had left it,
The book I had loved as a child.
Pages worn and wrapped
In a blanket of dust,
It now had two covers.

I sit.
Begin to read,
Losing myself in what was lost.
And then I knew
I could find
Anything.

Jagged edges | Mary Cox

The puzzle had sat there on my desk collecting dust
as I poured over my apartment searching for that peice
which would connect it all together.
I thought that the rest of it would make sense
once I placed that peice.
I sat there staring at the object
like it was a foreign peice of cardboard no one cared for.
I had continued to search after so many others had given up.
I deserved it, I thought.
It seemed that if I grasped this one last peice than my life would be complete.
Why had it's purpose changed now that I had searched forever
and it was finally in my hands.

It seemed to have been searching for me as well, for so long.
We fit together like a puzzle, each peice interlocking.
That peice and I,
grasping tight to the other,
aftraid to let go,
but this moment would only last for a short time.
For in time, in my heart I knew that peice had turned against me,
it no longer fit so perfectly like before,
I had gone through so much work to get this
and now that it was where it belonged,
making the picture complete,
It seemed that what I had been searching for was wrong all along.

Worthless | Darci Dixon

As I walked along the beach
I came across a penny.
But I didn't stop to pick it up
for I knew it was one of many.
Later as I walked along
I saw a silver dime,
but I just kept on walking
cause ten cents aint
worth my time.

I stopped a while to skip some rocks
across the silent water.
But none were good, so I just skipped
a couple worthless quarters.
When I started walking home
I came across a bun.
He asked me if I had spare change...
I told him I had none.

To Know | Ashlee Lyman

Looking around
The burnt sage and dry earth
Stretch far across my eyes.
This land is sun burnt and old.
This sky is big against the red earth.
I leave my footprints in the red dirt
As I walk through the hot desert.
I sweat in this hot desert sun.
As I walk through the hot desert.
I'm surrounded by red and pink and white sandstone.
It's not white- it's ivory.
I walk through the hot desert
Over rocks and dried wood.
I walk over the red, under the turquoise
And next to the green cacti.

I know what it is like
To sweat.
I know what it is like
to thirst for
clear
cold
water.
Looking around
The sage and sun burnt earth
I know what it's like
to strive-
to live.

Treasure | Stevie Smart

Standing at the door of my room,
my eight-year-old self contemplates
the formidable task ahead.
I gather dolls and stuffed animals
until I can see the floor again.
I venture into the corners,
heaping with forgotten junk.
The process is slow; I am distracted
by all of the toys I forgot I had.
I pause to check
that my closet shelf
still holds my gilded trinket box,
with a small button inside;
My secret treasure.

I gradually move my dresser
by pushing and pulling from side to side.
In the midst of the dust, hair ties and crayons,
is a large, striped seashell.
I put it to my ear
and hear the ocean!
I marvel over my discovery.
If this treasure had at one time been mine,
I did not remember it.
I imagine that the ocean
swept it in and hid it one night
while I slept.
I place it on my closet shelf
next to my trinket box and button,
forgotten until I clean my room again.

Here is What I Found | Jeremy Stensrud

I found a few.
These few made a line.
I need a few more
To be laid line by line.
There are more
So I set them down
To say
They have been found
And how they crossed some border
To be set down
And put in simple order.

The Muse then stops,
Saying I've had enough,
Time to say
What it was I thought,
Time to be read
And interpreted.
Time to be determined
What it was I meant,
but all there is
Is this that I found
To be brutally analyzed
Into the ground.

Woven | Sara Denson

my tired eyes caught the sparkle.
it was lurking in my desk drawer,
left there from a desperate request
for a little assistance on homework.
my chipped nails trace the ancient stones.
they try to touch the light the beads reflect.
but they suddenly stop at the cold metal crucifix.

my shakiness from caffeine begins to subside.
the rosary, now woven between my fingertips,
brought back memories of when i bought it.
i was sight seeing in vatican city when i encountered
it in a church with relics, whose importance i cant comprehend.
now, thousands of miles away, the beads and cross help me sleep.

Half Sister | Jennifer Belliston

I didn’t really think she existed but then
she showed up.
Everyone tried to prepare me for our
inevitable meeting.
A secret mistake from Dad’s
wild days.

Without her I was
spontaneous and free.
I was the favorite,
only child.
Without her I was
lonely.

In Preparation for a Dinner Date | Liz Pascoe

Three hours ago these tense nylons had been my only pair without a run. The threads uncoiled and sprang open my flesh beneath the table, and my nervous, shifting legs, disguised by the maroon napkin, itched and quivered while he toasted the wine. When the salad arrived I painted Picasso portraits with the dressing and carrots, until I excused myself and scuttled to the restroom. I wrapped the nylons in toilet paper and hid them behind the garbage bin. My naked legs and I returned and discovered my creamy pasta waiting.

Statue | Felicia Phillips

It just sits there on the desk,
Tail, broken in half a horn missing here and there.
It falls every day,
thanks to the jerk my books cause,
landing roughly, shaking the desk,
breaking off something new.
After a few more falls,
it's arms are in pieces.
Until one day it's simply gone.
Once so broken and battered,
now it's not even there.

complete being | Nikaela Aitken

Breathe out slowly-
head up.
shoulders back.
i speak to myself,
just pretend its there.
my hand touches the space between my neck and breasts,
where my necklace should lie.
smile. Act like its there.
shoulders back.
no one will notice if I don’t let them.
Act like you own the world.
one day its there, the next misplaced
by circumstances, caused by me, or others-
Its not a necessity.
but it completes the being

Hamster | Amy Loveless

My hamster used often to play with me,
He wiggled beneath my shirt.
Each new day I walked past his place,
knowing always that he waited
to put some light on my face.
But that day I walked out without noticing...
Without seeing the open door to his cage,
without noticing his empty place,
My face was where first my friends noticed
His sunshine had left its place.
Not one was sure why, but as
I looked in the mirror, I saw then
quite clearly
He lay lost at the foot of my bed.

Socks | Jeni Cannon

I lost my favorite socks this week---
I'm trying to remember when.
Was it while I was lugging my laundry
3 blocks to the laundromat?
Or was it while they were hanging on the balcony to dry?
I wore those socks everywhere---
I wore them last Sunday to church.
I was wearing them when I got my first kiss.
I wore them to my dad's funeral.
Now that they're gone, I doubt I'll find them.

Playmate | Matthew Clegg

I’d take you from my chest,
And play with you sun up sun down.
Together we defeated every foe,
No one could separate us.
Then one day you weren’t there,
In the chest where I usually found you.
I had always treated you kindly,
But you had gone and left me anyway.
Now much later I understand,
And I’ve moved on.

A Naked Wrist | Trent Gurney

I looked in all the obvious places.
Under the bed, behind the dresser.
The places watches like to hide.
Then I looked deeper. Everywhere.
The places one finds things they never want to find,
Yet never what they’re searching for.
Now I look at my wrist,
Wondering the time.
I'll never know.
How long have I been searching?
Perhaps a few short minutes.
Perhaps a few long hours.
I wouldn't know the difference.
I'll never know.
I'll never know without it.

The Essential | Laura Platt

Almost no one looses a car, we so often live spread apart.
Everyone has a vehicle to connect themselves with others,
The only piece I left of it is frustration, the keys.
To loose that connection is isolation from involvement. I can't
get where everyone else is--far away,
I've never known someone to loose something so elementary
Everyone owns one in it's bliss or despair, disheveled or mint. They ride
with their smiles or their tears, but me, I sit
alone straight faced. No one can pick me up along the way--I have to
find that car alone. Once found, I will keep it from speed
I am used to. Then maybe I can handle it.
But that doesn't matter I can't find it- this could be bland
without it. But maybe it is better than
taking the chance of a crash.

Dryer's Will | Josh Fowkes

color fades to infinite air
whiteness tucked away
to an intricate tumble it is forgotten
risen to the bottom
it sucks through the net
sanely captured
it realizes it's destiny
for thoughts no more shape
the water's cry

Teeth | J.D. Olenslager

The Tooth

My dad tied my first loose tooth
to the bathroom doorknob
with floss and asked me
if I was ready.
His hand rested on the door's
edge. My six-year-old eyes
watched uneasilly. He smiled,
swung the door shut,
and my incisor popped out
at the root and swayed
on the doorknob by a string.

autumn flies | Brad Barton

Autumn flies

In the spring when the flies trade places with the snow,
Full of energy and flight they first appear.
But soon the summer comes, and the scorching sun slows their way.
They are gradually becoming deprived of food.
When the leaves fall, their mentality dose as well
People wonder why the autumn flies have neither pattern nor path.
People wonder why the autumn flies run into walls and create havoc.
Truth be known is that they are simply out of time.

Dinner With Alex | Chelsea Lane Campbell

Dinner with Alex, two hours too late.
She consoles me with amber words of optimism:
"We'll find it; someone will find it".
What I know, but we both do not say
is that the someone will not be me
or her, but someone
who is unaware that the white gold
cross-banded
3 diamond promise ring I carelessly dropped
on the blacktop outside
is not from a man who offered me the role
of wife and mother,
but from the man who has dressed me
in the role of daughter and therapist.
Without that ring,
I am stripped of them both.

Gone | Gregory Burbank

I lost something.
The world is suddenly
Dark and Strange,
Like the sight of my
Rabbit's empty cage
Where a tuft of soft, white
Hair is caught in a corner;
It wasn't enough to keep
Him warm from the
Cold, cruel light that
Invaded the bars and
Froze his blood. He's
Gone forever into that
Good night. Gone like
The something I lost.

Raccoon | Randon Dyreng

The brown raccoon with
his tiny paws wrapped around
my arm revealing little fingers.
Helpless and alone
gently placed in my arms
the dirt looking like melted
chocolate as it turns
to mud in the rainstorm,
His ragged fur and slender
body curled up in my jacket.
as I take him home.
Feeding him milk from a bottle
soft straw to sleep.
Only to wake up next morning
To find him dead.

Iggie | Mary Cox

I sat on my bed staring at the
green iguana, whatching it, hoping to see some sign
any sign of movement,
but instead Iggie just stared right back at me,
barely blinking his eyes,
he seemed to be suffering,
but what else could I do,
he refused to eat, I gave him the Roman Lettuce that he loved
but he wouldn't touch it,
I couldn't take him to the vet, no it was too expensive
instead I just sat there and watched him whither away,
crying inside but showing no sign of emotion on my face.

Hidden | James Landon Buie

Forest trees match my fly hook vest,
Camouflaging my green perched pontoon tube
The Lake reflects my fishing pole
Cast out onto the water.
While the shore blends in my warm tanned skin,
Others I see driving speedily along side the beautiful,
Scenic road in their richly accustomed worldly cars.
I smile and decide to wave,
Intrigued to see if I am visible
All they see is nothing,
Except another part of nature
Blowing by.
Finally!
I can rest from the world

Brett Oberhelman | Sanity

Where is that whiskey?
The bottle that was half full
The bitter yet somber taste
Which helps me keep control
It made the song sound better
The laughter was happy and loud
It kept the sanctity of the hour
It once helped me feel proud
My necessary potion to be Jekyl
Lest, God help me, I become Hyde
Please don't let me see the mirror
In it my face now empty of pride
I can't kill the beast inside me
But I can at least dull the pain
So God help me find that bottle
Before I am no longer sane...

Snip | Darci Dixon

In one fowl swoop
its gone in a flash.
No longer hanging
were it used to.
I'm trying to move on
and not be stuck in the past,
but I am resentful
to the women who took it.
Fourteen years to get
what was taken away
with just a snip.
Now my neck is cold.

An Appointment | Liz Pascoe

My son’s name is called
from behind the registration desk.
The woman’s camel tongue spits
between her plaqued teeth the need
for his insurance card. As I sew
my fingers into my wallet in search
of the card (I swear it was here
when we left) my eyes are pulled
to the vibrant, tropical fish in the aquarium.
My son whispers secrets to them and asks
if they are hungry and would they like cake.
He pokes the glass leaving mucous fingerprints
for the fish to kiss.

Locket | Sara Staheli

My neighbors had the craziest backyard grass.
I played with their litters of kittens
And jumped on their rusty trampoline -
Jumped so high, I was sure I could land
On the roof of their house and sleep there if I wanted.
But then, when I was jumping one time,
I got too wild and tumbled off the edge.
And when I fell, I lost a locket my dad gave me.
It was gold and had a mirror inside so I'd know
I was most important.
I never found the locket, and I never jumped again.
So now, instead of kittens, trampolines, and grass,
I buy my own hangers,
Watch grown-up movies,
And eat things that are fortified.

My Gundnie | Katherine Goodell

I crawled into bed. I was ten.
Reached under my blankets
and he was not there.
I groped in the dark, feeling
quilt, carpet, dust under the bed.
Static shock glinted deep underneath
the sheets.
I left Gundnie on the bus, from the trip,
on the hot sterilized sweat bus miles
away in the sunny west. Call search and
rescue, call bus office! Such luck, they mailed
my Gundnie to me. His thin neck, beady
eyes and his worn white fur stuffed in a box.
Gundnie now was safe with me. How he
still fears being stuffed in a dark scarce box.

Diminishing | Sara Denson

Has anyone seen my socks?
As I half heartedly sift through the ocean of covers
And scan the empty floor, I scold myself:
I just bought some the other day.
Every month I’ll buy a few,
But they disappear to God knows where.
So off to Walmart I go
To replenish my ever diminishing stock.
How can you lose what you have so much of?
I’m so tired of buying all of them back.
Maybe one of these days, I think,
I’ll find where they go off to.
And I won’t have to retrace my barefoot steps.

Guilded Edges | Tyler Montgomery

Guilded Edges

I lost my mirror
No, I gave it away
I didn’t really
want the tattoo
and they proclaimed
the nose-ring to be cool
Why look at my own
reflection when I could
be seen through other’s
eyes
But now that I have
no mirror of my own
How can I see my
real face?

Layers | Ashlee Lyman

Riding home-
Agianst natural shades of slience.
Trees to sage,
Sage against red earth,
Red earth to road,
Road to empty horizon.
These boots-
Old and warn.
This skin-
Dry and crinkled.
My experiences,
My life,
Slowly and subtly
Bleed
Into that turquoise distance.

Goldfish|Stevie Smart

I stare in disbelief and disgust
at my floating goldfish.
At a younger age, I would have cried
and mourned the loss
of the fifteen-cent fist,
solemnly reflecting
that he would blow bubbles
no more.
Now, in maturity, I am simply annoyed
that he did not even last
twenty-four hours.

Bug|Stacie Morris

Home of Glass

Around the corner a black death,
Claws of dread and unkempt legs,
Into a glass prison to call home.
Safe, within slippery barriers.
A crow in the pale light.
Eyes peer threw the lucid confinement.
Legs twisted in silence,
Demise in the world of mortals.

Calculator | Jennifer Belliston

Slumped on an overstuffed couch
I search between the cushions and underneath.
I search the nooks and crannies of my apartment.
I search in every crevice.
Uselss. It is gone.
No more tinkering. No more problem solving.
No more number crunching and punching.
I used to fix everything.
Master the impossible, conquor the improbable.
Stun the disbelievers.
But, alas, no more.
It is gone, silent in an unvisited corner.
Gone from my planning, calculating life.
Gone with my future.
Gone.