145 lede

“recycling bin, august 22nd, 2015” + 3 more, by Charlotte Foreman


i am tired of your
saturated silhouette
cast from
long island to davie

a tattooed sigh
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Adjacent Species Like You. by Jenson Leonard

for mab
Us drawn nightly
between chiaroscuro,

as lipless evidentials
and notional genitalia.

Coast. and another, by Tim MacGabhann

The sea's shallow vowels on repeat.
Tee up Da's brass Zippo. Pluck: no splash.

His golf balls will be bone comets
that coast out into nowhere.

Let shredded-brass rain
and dust fog cancel the towers

until town is a mesh grid:
all map and no place.

Whalen Brown's falling to falling to fall on the floor

crashing to crash to crash on the floor 
waking to wake on the floor 
to vomit to puke to throw it all up 
Want more? We want more! 
(ahh excited youth) 
We want more young people 
to dine on the wine 
to drink some more 

“New York Spell” by Gregg Dotoli

like that forgotten song
that's reheard, sweeter and richer sounding

when leaving, the spell goes too
as Manhattan patient and regal rests
like a lady-in-waiting
on return, the awe and freedom falls
on the spirit
the breezy island whispers stay
this is the only place to be
this is the only place to be
this is the only place to be