flirting.words

The Precise Temperature Of Darkness.

2008-07-31T23:27:00.002-04:00

A worldalter in harps phrasing my breath All to

lilly in the shade Every corner is rounded before

the chirping cardinals ignite Before the

signals incinerate the tables wont wobble on cue

and the flowers all stole velvet

O Sweet.

2008-07-15T15:05:00.003-04:00

Three poems up on O Sweet Flowery Roses. Check them out here.
Special thanks to Russell.

Seeing Through the Warm Months.

2008-07-06T01:55:00.016-04:00

Artwork by
Matthew Woodson

ghostco

after Guided by Voices.

2008-06-21T01:13:00.006-04:00

90. A Chicken blows.

A good flying son Cigarette tricks.

Alright.

and Little Game.

Big bird Motor away.

Chief.

Chinese Restaurant.

Closer Auditorium.

Evil salute. Ex-. go. go up,

we go not Watch me of Whirl.

Gold (I wanna be a) King

down Caroline. Hit. hunting knife.

Jets. jumpstart. My cool.

My dumbcharger.

pricks Pimple Zoo As we. salty speakers.

Strawdogs. Striped White hick.

Supermodel Always Crush me.

The ugly vision.

They’re witches.

valuable Blimps. you are.

poetry by Chris Corlew.

Chris Corlew is the author of two chapbooks, The Day the Dinosaurs Went Extinct and Michael's Anniversary Party. He is a junior at Loyola University Chicago, where he edits the magazine Diminuendo.

gow Dow experience.

2008-06-13T03:04:00.004-04:00

rolling logs kissing dogwolves

treasury tealoyal

wraps of god stupidnut

compared to the universe nextdoor

the real halfways of loving kickbags

and blooming Niagarafalls for pennytrees

is easy

my name was fancy

compared to what?

Memorie dal Futuro.

2008-06-10T00:44:00.002-04:00

due foglie, una candela: il soffio del vento

Prinder.

2008-06-01T17:47:00.012-04:00

Just very small it would be and it would come to the door. Really pretty wasn't supposed to be there, and your name is Acegrace? Growing too well I thought it was a sister a long time in years. Awful lot of walnuts coming back and forth, but they do, and take their hands off when they use bad at that what they got from then, and then comes in--he'll know what is. I think you know more than I do. Then says, when can I get you into bed? They come around in this place, that's seven. Two, three, iron, big birds. I have to wait on it with a hatchet, one man still gets cozy. Can you bone on your beast or like it older, wink it when I'm older--takes me for your things. Zooquise white sobbling scenery, couple of smokestacks to take, I'll do it in my own time. Day's up, you're there, Red set here, you've got a nice spot for mys take awhile comes and stars me. I was for an older pheasant before you finish for the moon. I'll say hello another time.

Symbiosis.

2008-05-24T16:10:00.010-04:00

She looks at a Poem-Painting

“The walks of Saint Cloud

                      are open,

the eyes of the fish

                       are closed.

Remarkable basins,

                  you give me ten years.”



Kelsey St. Press

that.

2008-05-20T01:41:00.006-04:00

                     melt that body resin

                     out of the night sky.

brush stroke

2008-05-12T01:48:00.003-04:00

demons skin summer applecore

didactic eye candy

seaside hydrant lions mane

eloquent delacontessa

grot-strap carbon armchair

purple graze shotgun suck

bells burst apart novas

triangulated beauty folds into a heap in the corner

sequoia-arched turtledove bow round the center

parts of the hold.

2008-05-12T00:52:00.004-04:00

Put air between your teeth, below your feet. Sink’s exploratory fish hook, rambunctious, etched ou(t) of white lace.

Piece with god and his pair of dice drawn to the warmth of a fire and a collectible hammer of lilies. Floural oceans--
The child, the child. The drunkard is drinking, the photographers do heroin. Man/Not- Man slinging frosting fit. Blurred flourish Thumb-Power!

Kammacozi man—babushka. a bag full of bones, I like blind pianists with their noses of weasels. Zen lionist, scar of water, magicians in petticoats. Summarize on the inside,
fleety
like anchored
gunpowder

a-swing in salt.

Avenue Montaigne.

2008-05-07T23:13:00.002-04:00

music by:

François-René Duchâble

May.

2008-05-04T00:41:00.004-04:00

Dear friends,

Posting has been slow the past few weeks because of other commitments, but May will be filled with wonderful poetry, art, and stories from local Chicago artists. It is my hope to mold this blog into a house for other talented writer's work. If you or anyone you know is interested in contributing original art of any kind, email me: mborey@luc.edu.

Keep an eye out for upcoming posts showcasing brilliant new, and original work.
Be excited.

circles.

2008-05-02T02:28:00.004-04:00

(cutting circles around circles I cant believe you just did that
circles around polite shirt shards during our “little” talk about women.
Harley, cornmuffin, red graffite on Paint-Pusher, this is not jumping.
the high school lockers. Stolen so do I, up-for-a-laugh.
angel territory, abongo kneecaps granite green giraffe lips behind your back
connection. Going to Sears to take four at a time, your voice is getting higher
pictures for grandma? name flashed you greasy man, Merl.
on a scoreboard, bunny in the high I don’t have boom lambsnake behind
beams and somewhere there’s a we thought you left object respect
Debbydirvey. pet rocks in the sediment of the pit.)

Seasonal.

2008-04-22T16:30:00.005-04:00

Sheridan was my mom’s best friend’s last name but my mom goes through a lot of best friends. I remember the plush feel of her hugs and wonder why dust falls into the grooves between her and people she isn’t related to by blood.

Barren people don’t mix well in the day-to-day when forced to interact with people who have grown into pairs like you. Sapphire strike, blue boycott… a heartbreakingly sore and sullen vacation from codependence.

Circles of fluorescent light do not quite illuminate the whole room and we need light for this. There she was, legs and arms akimbo on the coffee table. There she was, creating variations in the skies. There she was, cluttering the surface.

Forest is lost in the trees. Trees are lost from the forest. We keep spitting words back and forth like ping-pong practice. Coagulating on the surface of the blood like platelets.

Stay ensconced in the spin of the scones across the crust of the sugar glass counter. It collapses and relapses just like you, but you don’t care, do you? Every day is the same old change and every change ends the same old way. Missive to a submissive, document for a dominant. There’s nothing left to counterfeit. There’s nothing left to counterfeit. I thought all the girls were over it.

There’s a missing person poster on the pole outside my hole in the wall apartment and there’s a picture of a little girl who I think belonged to a doctor or something but they never did catch up with her documents and by the time they did it was completely over. Everything was over. It bled out in their shaking, clutching hands as it pulsed and popped.

It’s always ‘people I once knew’ and never the long time muse for the painting of a new personality. Validate the strumpet. Tell her she’s in strunt and that dirty mistresses only get sassafrass blooms on Saturn. Spinning missiles may drive into the missing document, but some things don’t mix well. Some arrows point only down.

You should practice staying close because the tide drags something fierce. You should fight the tide. You should ride the tide.

prose by sirenasilver
photography by emily kelly

dialed inn.

2008-04-15T20:50:00.004-04:00

Nats wrapped by holy fire and tinglebrush garland wreaths
Simple silver cloisters matching in size and tone. Cut cut
my heartbase out like an airfield neither above nor below ground.
Noise comes apart above my head in redsnap explosions, breathing heavy and believing will not make you understand. Breathing heavy and believing will make you lonely. Clumsy hiccups and aloof legs, feet, and other novas
fall-- defeat your prisoners and prisms,
laploose and cozyburning, plummet and
sink.

Part three hundred and seventy four years ago,
a star was born, barracudaed with backless slap shackles.
The sold hole dribbles in agreement by the
yawn credential servant plow.
Foam throws up equations
into the live sun, oranges and a perfect warrior.
Majestic piercing swan, concrete image.
The tree with aerial roots, split-level parks, and guard lions.
think?

I burn your buttons, I sew your hand. Unhappy smile centuries
build epiphanies and grape icecone delete.
Need navy waves obstruct obsidian wives, and frequency.
Slow down pick up pace tear the sky in two. Bloated silvers move
plank supply, clean white eyelids lunate.
Rubbed curves current wind in torn rose-wood color.
Glass hills cover chairs neighboring (mountains).
Don’t tilt too far into the bowl of wolverines and lilacs mercy.
inn?

For Bon Iver.

2008-04-11T02:29:00.003-04:00

A child like him

folds like a blanket

when he’s cold in the dome.

Jet black ink tides

on the stitched flower organ.

A child like him holds the

eyes older than the broken

lilac mold.

Crouching like a crow

on the rocks

shivering

paralyzed

What could have

brought me to this low

outlined in blue yarn

shaded with shadows.

A child like him holds the

eyes higher than the flag.

A child like him

will break the sound pole.

white lights.

2008-04-10T02:14:00.002-04:00

let people thirst for disgraceful atmosphere (trinkets, brazed bee medallion) happy face to the sun, the quiet (told told told, fold fold fold) dating keeps going towards banjo whippings (homemade donations from the money launders) what burrow are the gone? (Ask, repeat again for me) minute by minute break flower lightening heat flat world of borrowed things (upside) the awake (in--repositioned) from the beautiful artery baby bucket already jumped light, (in the crevice coroner)we will change if you lead. (a stream full of floating candles, water softened) every side cast counting later than average hymn against hymn, a cracked overture (bells pale orange free) dawning at the grove vital airs idol hanging hinges, swans, having lost my daisycutter (heavy company) heavy red aisle ancient traffic brazing time principle as cats, iced ridiculous, slowly stored unwashed fever of heart (i hate to interrupt your writing -- even to fuck you.) newbile weeds, elixirs, sobbing energy. (hollow tin hammers beating on rusted nails, half head cock) Horses, storms, lion skins rolling cottages for 25 cents. In both hands, there is a porcelain woman (sobbing green star, that’s all we ever do) calling both between cramps and mimicking (transcripts for blue bermune) the likely policy for whales,

(I just had a minute with white lights.)

tree branch!

2008-04-04T20:48:00.003-04:00

With the tree branches pulsing, I’m not sure how I’m going to move these clapping tin cans. The clapping tin cans entrance my stares, and work it. Rooftop prayer followed by a rooftop hollowwayed drop, becoming a dance, and then a name, and then a dance again. Purple sparkled kicks pridefully, “Everything heavy falls out in earth’s nucleus.” Sixty-seven jigglebelts circus paraded their jeep between the brick in the buildings. There were fliers. A child in wriggling pigtails on horses buyers back, relax refreshments built by bottlemakers and poppied hills envy glades and dales. Clydes and rewired coonscuff, if a fox tore my throat. I mean !.

undeniable.

2008-04-04T20:40:00.002-04:00

Sedatives provocative something to reach your hawk hunt space I’m indevoure zulu translating voltage with the rage about em, but the building cant kill cool breeze the days and times shine magnet shebang, move-it-around-undeniable.

One for the trouble, two for the vase. Fly my dove and slug ANTE11. Crazy hitters thump undeniable. Shudder drop the jewel real echo-fill doing stop handplants stop me now Brooklyn.

prose for Elizabeth Willis.

2008-04-02T00:27:00.005-04:00

Litanities for sale in an old woman’s front yard. Somewhere in the Farmer’s Hills, where cows are born to cheese, and waking snakes doesn’t make you a snake-waker. Too many Quakers to count, she said in my cereal. My remember bubbles are fading the ceiling, or the carpet, or the once lost art of rain continuing into rain.

With the daisycutters, trample and trim the clovergrove to the appropriately sedated caliber-onyx.
and that was where we once squaredanced, dancing squares and reverently remembering what made the doors open.

No Country for Old Men.

2008-04-02T00:20:00.001-04:00

The inside lives of cat suns and wonders, as the owner of the gettin’ store asks, “What’s the most you’ve ever lost in a coin toss?”

Alacazam goldfish.

2008-04-02T00:14:00.003-04:00

Alacazam! Triton smells like a pirate girl--entrenched in fluorescent bowls like flighty
goldfish.

Generously contributed by sirenasilver

Battle at Bombay pop.

2008-03-30T20:41:00.002-04:00

my eyelashes are admiring

the hazy reflection drizzle (by)

Bombay pop and bamboo fiddlesticks.

christs, fights, and latch-stick watchtowers.

kites, Roman Candle pipes, and neither bridge is

folly.

this row found hero’s cliff rolling

and cigar smoked hum-lightly

when

there are various starry assessments

to be made about the

marrow-sharpened interludes

while the green soldier grips

pound grenades, treats the ground kindly,

and looses the wooing moon.

I.

2008-03-27T01:05:00.000-04:00

(pink cored lava clouds,

you’ll be in time.)

bump cat tick tack,

bumb cat arson attack

I…I….I…

(I.)

prying colors from my teeth

I sit, sparkle all over, with

my benched-thought trial

flung behind my back

when I gave up.

Freestyle.

2008-03-23T03:14:00.000-04:00

"When you create from the anger, you start to heal yourself."

orange ornament.

2008-03-20T01:58:00.001-04:00

a large part of what the

pants must wear

is the cockrobbin.

checkered lock bobble,

capulary orange ornament

puckered jackrabbit,

(and the directional cashberries

sublimate without a sound.)

Jacknuggeted.

2008-03-20T01:27:00.001-04:00

steamed windmills

and rubies procreating

singing, in the breeze.

by the knife, the wife

and the shallow-hearted trife,

groans, gallows, and gallops

away faster than the wind’s white horse

in fragments and pieces.

dictate to the ducktape the hallowbatted

informational, so we can

ghost, get, and fodder.

(chimes in her hair

turn into icicles

when she goes outside.)

Helios - Ayres

2008-03-19T02:18:00.000-04:00

The rays of lyres,

Melodic sun.

Another lazy day.

Whispers of laws to gain.

The letters across the trail.

Grumbling giant’s

stomp-earthquake.

(All eyes shining.)

Rainbow's Tears.

2008-03-19T02:14:00.000-04:00

Rainbow’s tears beating back the wind,

but fate is coming in the

pailing light.

thoughts for Elizabeth Fraser.

2008-03-13T21:32:00.000-04:00

sailing salience

wide sparkling kites

in the sky.

yellow sand saved

in small glass beakers

as you finish them.

rounded, signed, and sent

daffodils and Aloysius.

streams of laughter

brilliant quills of crystal.

shim-shimmer.

lay your paw upon his soul.

too much trust, Ben.

been going, going, gone.

wear the gleam right off his soul.

valley folded

wishes were trusted and barrels

bolster shame domino.

churning gears over

grassy dread’s death.

all aboard, going Inna

in an eternity

down and

stairs and children

coral flashes and calloused sounds.

pink. orange. red.

ribbed and veined

ribboned and sultitan Itan.

(thoughts for Elizabeth Fraser.)

eno and budd.

2008-03-12T22:01:00.000-04:00

gypsy violin wanders the mislabeled city,

tastes lip and first light.

movement of the red ribbon twirler

dancing for days.

cream spotted catacomb

hides stars and mirrors.

the man on the corner in the rocking chair

calls birds above chiangmai.

so happy to be noticed, they chirp

harp-dotted lullabies and join the arc of doves.

unified movement melts the sky,

hurt unraveled.

haunting voices and chill air

among fields of crystal.

dark bells whistle in the wind

through lonely fences and blue succumb stares.

poem.

2008-03-09T21:53:00.000-04:00

we see you in you.

we speak as one,

to you, as you,

and us as

blind wild turquoise waves

grown, like you.

parataxis eyeisis white.

I am unsure of where

the ground stops

and I begin,

or turn,

and sapphire stripped ducklings

wander the

xylophoned ocean

copia.

2008-03-09T21:39:00.000-04:00

pale purple clouds mix

sea and symphony.

fireworks explode overhead

like a forced passing spirit

midlances and sets the sun.

baby-blue pastel lifeweights

barter and bargain all over my

(repose in blue.)

red.

2008-03-07T23:07:00.000-05:00

Don't want to be free want to be with you.

words.

2008-03-03T21:59:00.000-05:00

boiling rain.

Shambles. Bone scrapes.

sequenced twirling streamers.

fiercely. Fiercer. Fleece can’t sleep.

backswords thunder.

Sheets of sonic silk.

confusion lilies.

vibrant pink pianos.

Symmetrical sap.

treasury three step.

totems from the Red-Sleeved Warr.

A whole flock of fair-pinned cranes.

side wise bubbles.

bamboo floors.

(melodied skipping stones.)

love.

2008-03-03T19:58:00.000-05:00

body peels, sheds, and sparks, glinting like sharpening steel.

static pleasure conductor,

want not blessings sings, silver slings, or marbled images.

ever after, ever always, never shedding halting hot.

arousal sounds stir and sleep and ask

topples towers, such and moated

piano keys stomp and pretend to run

ill climb aboard

trust the window reflection in the slow motion train

finger exercises are over

moonlight guiding our hands,

moment, ground break, dishes fall and shatter on the tile floor

and purr

trilled laughter behind a white fence

bucked truck, but cheek only twelve.

i want a soaked picture to remember this by

imagining, daydreaming, fortune telling, and riding

ladder rungs

of haste

suicide bombers and flower pedals

comparisons have been made

by mounds, gods, and round hobbled trounce

cursive letters written in the sky

doodling into meaning, then yelling,

“graces golden glory mountains high!”

(sparkle and traipse an arrow, spade and narrow.)