Zine Selections

I've picked out my two favorite poems for both Alison and John so far, more to come for the meeting on Tuesday:

Alison:

this morning
salt like a sleepy snowflake 
from your eye
bare calves
march in front of you

trying to figure it out
there is a lot of truth in that
in the moon and the stars
but what about the overpasses of baltimore
and the small tiles of carpeting that make up our living room floor

in the conflict 
and the hardships 
i guess you just have to react 
you just have to be
 
on that crooked broken couch 
in the dimly lit light
whether its here or in milwaukee
it is

and there’s something
someone else that is
feeling the same
the struggle

the urge to make sense 
out of what
is not 
really
tangible

but what you can see
is
the moment

and the moon overhead
and that contrasting urge 
to fight
whatever it is
that is obstructing

John:

Must I Feel Old?
I stare out the same window

I smoked a cigarette in my dorm once
I don't think it was rebellion,
It was laziness and addiction
In fact I smoked a cigarette in my dorm more than once

I have broke the law more than once
I don't think it was rebellion
It was youth and addiction
In fact I break the law all of the time

I have thought about you once
I don't think it was bad (as I always do)
It was hopefullness and (addiction)
In fact I think about you all the time

I went back to my dorm to be alone before
I don't think it could have been even close to midnight
It was peaceful and I didn't get any work done
I think it's to prepare for getting old

I know alot of people worry about getting old
It took me getting depressed to realize it
What upset me, is will I "feel" old?
If I still feel young when I'm 50, what then?

Must I feel "old" before I die?
And does time really change my awareness?
Steve said he wanted me to be around when he's 70
Do I quit smoking now?

Have I gone too far?

Can I blame my death on an uncomfortable futon?
Can I blame my death on some smoke that goes well with coffee?
Can I blame my death on Taco Bell after film class every Wednesday?
Can I blame my death on the stupidity of someone's beer and car?
Can I blame my death on you?
Can I blame my death?

I Found Life In Moving Forward
When we talked I was already gone. 
It would take maybe years to fix me.
It didn't matter, I wasn't quiet anymore.
When I have nothing to say I become a different person.
Mostly thinking of the stale bread days that make this day what it is.
And I will never share it with you.

And you, we talked.
You fixed a cold blanket.
And that dead heartbeat that pushed on my undershirt,
every night, thinking it will stop
It's a waste of time to worry.
So I don't, and you don't, and no one really does except me and my sister.
We read books on it, we know.
I stayed up in solidarity.
I waited until dawn made me puke on it's fucking blue sky.
And every day I puke on the fucking sky.
Waiting until it's 3 a.m. and I can write down 10,000,000 excuses.
And lie about you in orange.

I played a song that made me cry.
I saw the 150 year old tree.
I tried to imagine what it was like to be a tree.
maybe the sun feels like a warm glow
and maybe i'll even get thirsty too
other than that i don't know
one time i told my mother,
"if i should die before you, i would 
prefer to be cremated, and then pot
me in one of your plants, i'm 
excited for the next life"
"well i hope that doesn't happen"
We rode in her unnatural green car.
The lawn mower of the birds and my kids.

I found life in moving forward.
Having something to do at 4 p.m. everyday is probably the most important advice I could ever give anyone.
Naps aren't deaths Ben, go to sleep.
And I will write to you, about everything I have thought.
And Kevin will continue to put his cigarettes on your tables.
I almost lit your apartment on fire 11 times.

2 months is all I need.
Philosophy and this fucker seated 5 tables away.
Trying to mack on some girl trying to do her homework.
She's cute, and I don't want her to go follow him.
As he gets up, she does a minute later.
Running to the safety of a dorm.