Into the meridian by Barbara Beck

After Image by JKD, Transience by A. Hollowell,
could by L. Pasold and baited blurs by G. Vance

ride the arcs slices stuck together adjust darkness
burgundy fields a fingered wall aslope the wild line
become imaginary tainted at mean midnight sway
around my table in any old clothes shadowy
within an assemblage of rings muster one room's
worth of flatness floor cookies coke pages lexicons
of luring hold down from shuddering out
dissolving in windows all the people I know
flat-earthers facets of an elusive sum

that by Lisa Pasold

After After Cartier-Bresson by Alex M & Cessation by Jonathan W



what draws me, happens before the couple sits down, before they decide on that parting

in the train station, frowning, before the dog gets lost, before the school clothes rustle,

before the kerchief, the bench, the street, before the sixty years of sleeping together, before the bridge.

ah, before the bridge, the bride, before the photograph, the bouquet tossed into a river, what happens

before all that, draws me, happens again and happens again and happens, the sunglasses so

like before, lying in that place, shoes cast aside, the bedsheets lost, and how

I happen after.

Cessation by Jonathan Wonham

after After Cartier-Bresson by Alex M and Like The Day Upstairs by Amy H and May by Rufo Q and Athena Undone by Michelle N and Doxodox Blinks Morse Code by Rob SO

the couples         undone
        are parting
                in a blur       while

through leafy haze
         undecomposed morning
coughs up
           frail
                    bouts

of memory
      pollinated, balanced by
               the swipe
       of life

     in a splendid flurry
down
        the summer street
                 the young woman’s

skirt
          flecks
the dog watching
          together
                like slander
in off-white shades

              and though
        I
             begin
to wish us

            unbridled risqué
in parks, on benches, on bridges
          routing out
               time passed

what draws me
                besides
impossible
      ashen letters
              is to concede
          in her hair
a white
               kerchief's
       cessation

un cap franchi by Lisa Pasold

after The Question's Moot by Jonathan Wonham

culinary bruises, there's the space between
her names, heavy and constantly
white-night capitulating. all nightgown and balcony-
bloodied juliet. every inflated disagreement
redressed, her receptions keep turning into
my deceptions. rearrange my tattoos
and i'm set for the next amorous equivalency.
once swallowed, the question's rather less
than promised: however many storeys up, the ground
becomes moot.

Like the Day Upstairs by Amy Hollowell

after May by Rufo Q


Like the day upstairs
nothing is undone --- not me, finely
pointing a nose through leafy haze
to the same thing,
undecomposed.

Morning coughed up frail
in clear light
can’t be saved.

In recent bouts of memory and dream
flowers fell and pollinated,
balanced by the swipe of life
like fighting cats on the wall
lost in the splendid flurry.

NEW: May by Rufo Q

It came in dreams like the day upstairs

on the bus commentary from a tourist

bus came in the window and all

of us were like nuclei or vanilla

flecks in ice-cream;

                                    the same thing

given like corned beef to a cargo cult

to everyone to chug away down

the pollinating summer street

with and do with what they will.

Image by JKD

after "The Question's Moot" by Jonathan Wonham

statuesque corollaries
.......................dissolved in windows
.................................................of which you speak
transparency’s
........................neon grappling
................................................needled hands informing
replications of
........................cagey grassblades

promised balconies