amphibi.us

The arctic evening at the earth’s
roof ruptured

In phosphorescence alien to the
black

With subtle silver ripples in the
cold

And left the world with questions
in its wake.

The sapphire spirals spun and
shimmered hanging

Twelve minutes in the place where
they had opened

Out from a pale blue sphere,
large as the moon,

Before dissolving like a closing
portal.

Perhaps it was the blue star Hopi
say

Will herald catastrophic change
for man,

Or scientists were strumming on
the HAARP’s

High frequencies to make the
night air dance.

Such mysteries of the universe
are written

In flowing fractals that man’s
clumsy fingers

Still can not trace, much less
may we

Pronounce a language we have yet
to hear.

© Santiago del Dardano Turann, 2009

[others]

She writes
from the other side
of a fine line,
bloody and raw,
septic even.

Bukowski would have loved her.
Drunk driving the Beemer
out to the track with her
nestled beside him,
feeling lucky,

Mahler from the Blaupunkt
filling the smoky interior,
sun so bright
it hurts their sore eyes,
even through tinted glass.

Forget that mess
from last night.
Take out the
empties later,
after the ponies.

At supper,
canned ravioli
by candlelight
and a table red
for starters.

Later, more tangled sheets.

© Barry Basden, 2009

When it’s break time
the girls all walk together,
cigarette-protector cases
clasped between their index

tapers and their thumbs.
On each girl’s fingers glow
iridescent lacquers.
When break time nears,

they peek at each other,
twinkle, giggle, nod.
When break time comes,
a bell rings and the girls rise

like Lazarus. High on heels
they click in couples down the hall
to fill an elevator.
They get off at One. There

they float across the cafeteria,
men everywhere,
eyes everywhere.
(Is he the one?)

When a new girl’s hired
the old girls
put her to the test:
Will she join them

for the coffee break?
If she does, she joins them forever,
even after she marries,
retires or expires.

© Donal Mahoney, 2009

[others]

First updraft

late September

at the door

almost asleep

remembering

what I forgot at the store

my ex-girlfriend

shows up

on my doorstep

with no place to stay-

my birthday.

© Michael Lee Johnson, 2009

[others]

if you

told me

ten

years ago

that I’d

become

the most

boring

sack of shit

imaginable

I would have

had

something

witty

to say

© Shannon Peil, 2009

[others]