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112 lede

1/30/14 - 1/31/14 by Lauren Moon

when i am at chipotle eating a burrito alone i like to think that you are watching me eating that burrito, baby i don’t know who you are but you like me because of the voracious way that i consume that big burrito i imagine that you like that i have no shame so i smile to myself before i take another bite hoping you’ll see it oh you’ll see it, baby
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not necessarily a poem about starbucks. by Daniel Ryan

the girl behind the counter in starbucks
asks each customer's name
then writes it down in squeaky black marker
on the side of the disposable cup

a skinny latte for Jane, a mocha for Aoife
an americano for Daniel and so on

this is a momentary heartening
a cosy jazz music experience of the bright indoors
clean surfaces and christian names

when i drink my coffee it tastes nothing like me.

Bruegel, a song. by Bret Hamilton

I can see
The scales have fallen away.
They all want me to rosy up my glasses
I won’t be
The polish on their jewelry
Why should I paint pictures of asses?
Its all there
Right in front of me
The world is a fountain of miracles

Cut Grass in Snow. by Michael Lee Johnson

All day long
night is my storm lantern.
I carry it into this farmland
cutting into my harvest emotions
covered by snow
edge them in half
in front of me.
Do not laugh at me, a circus clown down,
I am sixty-six; my dimples show smiles, ripples, age.
This day is a lawn mower
even in Canadian December.
Machinery is shacked-up, covered.
I plow beneath the white surface
cut rotten leaves beneath settled snow.