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#26 REBIRTH

Wednesday, July 12 2017

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Rebirth – Lauren Kennedy

When there is advice in my mouth
When my cheeks are full with the way the world should be
THE WAY THE WORLD SHOULD BE
I am learning to swallow it
To save it from a quick half-birth, a slow noise death
Let it be born as my own body
Subject to meat and time
And let's just see how good it is.

Dead Man Walking – Avo Woovy

They dropped cotton collars in the river They dragged naked shins in the water
Rags hanging damp
Bless with a witness
Bless with permission

Wingspan wide
Dripping with candle wax
The suns surface a razor's edge
There were ashes where he lay
Icarus I think they said

There were ashes in laid in bed
There were ashes in empty cabinets
In empty rooms
In hallways echoing
Lazarus I think they said

Small piles swept up with each feather
Wet footprints on hardwood floors
Rise again
From the room
To bloom
To praise the sun

Rebirth – Luno

deep beneath the tidal waves
I laid down among the oysters
the seaweed engulfed my heavy heart
and the sand caressed my earthly husk
I took a breath beneath the brackish heavens
and was greeted by my cosmic partner

Point – Angela Marie

Is the power hidden beneath the waves?
The momentum driven by some unknown source?

   "God", you tell me

(...why must I "think too much"?)

   "Nothing", I counter

And the rain falls,
plants grow,
worms crawl,
   fallen fruit lay in a wood, rotting
   fungus overtakes the carcass of a beetle

pulled... all of these back
into its bosom
cool, warm, everything
-this earth

and WE flutter
aimless wanderers above
   the fray

full of devices and
enormous complexities
that distract
but
never, never define

-Not Absolutely

Is that the point then?
   ...revised narratives,
histories, languages all-
flowing, changing

-like the force of the water

we reach our own conclusion
   Again, and Again is our
      rebirth

Worded Rebirthed – Izeck Free-World Hempseed

Rebirth of a birtheR
Rebrand the brandeR
Purdue is due Pur
Do re mi foo.. reDo
Snackwell’S are, well, snackS
Friendless? Can’t have less, Friend
Wingdings ding Wings
Ed question, questionEd
Fredrick meet Rick Fred
Gavin in vaG
Greater metropolitan ER, Great..
Caterpillar had a pillar Cater
Sleeping, I’m a G in Sleep
Wrapping a radio ping W/rap
Opening, gO in pen
Beginning cotton gin; Ben, gin
Sinclair was a Clair Sin
Helped Bo did, Ed, HELP
Gather her Gat
Rather her Rat
Justin is Just in
Dustin is in Dust
Mostest, hardest MOS test
Ended Ned Ed.

Subtle Shift – Stephen Barry

Half light shadow smoke peeking on corners and shapes.
The highways still, echoes and bends.
Soon dawn lazily wakes, blonde hair sliding on supple shoulders,
dancing in bedroom window, a firm stroke between blades.
Beginnings and endings often blur, go unnoticed at times.
The wax, the wane. Morning twilight sneaks by,
creaking unfamiliar floors. It’s a rustle now; not a wrestle.
Deep bold silence ringing colors; blue, green, yellow.
Finally calm, no baptism, no shed skin; a renaissance perhaps.
A subtle shift. Welcome to a new day.

Again – Danielle Manning

There is a flutter in my chest
Again
In my step
Again

A quiver in my hands
Again
In my voice
Again

I watch myself smile
As if from the outside

A goofy smile
A real smile

I'm happy to long
Again
To desire
Again

To be alive
Again

To be falling
Again

The 42 Iterations of Prime – Reed Rickmers

this is the Story of Grace, Void, and Catalyst,
the first Four iterations of Prime to Grok Singularity.

the Priority of such things Mattered mostly
because clocks Talk to themSelves a lot

about the Dissonance of god. it’s Oddly Even
harder to Believe my eyes could Lie True north.

so Please, Men, don’t hustle your Women too hard
and ladies, Laugh Freely. as do We who know

whose Hand rocks the cradle. isn’t it Beautiful?
and hollow. that Perfect Mirrored Inversion in Service

to Simple surfaces. Chaos is only Death zoomed way out.
Bet you a nickel it says that in every Physics book within a day or two.

Stupid Manifestation Made me do it, i swear. disHarmony is still Music
to Divine ears. Sounding a little like Light, Luck, love, Laughter and Slaughter.

A Little Change Wouldn't Hurt – Dusty Rhodes

Evin wants a poem about rebirth.
I've stayed the same for years.
But now I'm starting to think
a little change wouldn't hurt.
So maybe its time to look for planes trains and automobiles, to try and put in some distance to make this heart grow fonder
Because its so hard to make art out of this awkward town when it all starts and ends with bottles and baggies. I sit down to create but all
I make is a caricature of pretty girls for pretty boys wandering the streets with trust fund hippies.
The question of what makes me happy feels selfish to ponder, so instead I try to distract my lack of self control.
Making mediocre expressions while sipping liquor hoping someone relates to my
disconnect.
Is this art imitating life or is this life imitating art?
I can't escape the same old
traps and nicknames,
old relationships still feel like graveyards
and I don't want to speak to the dead anymore.
So I'll seal away all this childish nostalgia and pray that the next life has enough whiskey to make me a man.

Rebirth – Rachel Myles

The world is like a cold pool
No warm hands to comfort this round
You discomfort me
Make me squirm in my skin
Make me want to walk away
Still clamor to get in
Always lost, dying to begin
Does love live here?
Slit my wrists, breaking windows to get in
To be held
To be reborn again

Rebirth – Craig Jose

dismal drasmal drops of
infinities sadness on
my lens, forgive me
for I have sinned taken
that extra step off
sanity's ledge.
Speaks to me now,
Fathers Prayer
from a place
far away from
here.
You must go and
die to be born again
Bring new life into this
form again.
sad song sing
the poets right
you are a warrior
must stay
And Fight

Rebirth – Natalie Windt

Somewhere in between the amniotic fluidity of my
Egyptian cotton duvet, set to the heartbeat of a whitenoise machine, in the
smothering darkness of a womb I recreate by blackout curtains,
patterned blackout curtains,
I am reborn, every day.

The walls of my studio are the ribs of mother. They are creaking, aching,
wishing that I would call.
They hold me for the night
as I gather strength.
Ribs that grow tired of holding me. Ribs that are designed to push me
out.

I kick, wondering if she felt it. Dance in the sack for the ultrasound.
I know no one has been watching me for a while now.
The light of life is peaking, somehow, through a gape
I can see it.

Out of the darkness, out of the fluidity, of the heartbeat,
and of the womb,

I am reborn every morning
to something new.

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