October 2017

autumn is a time for tending. when was the last time you were home? when you close your eyes - are there green hills? fireflies? when did you learn to take cover? do you remember your first lie? what happened to that boy who kissed you behind your friend’s house?

The Stay Project is here for you. send your tendencies and tender musings to threepoets2017@gmail.com.

2

Weiss Cyrillic Cyanidic Sans

London fog fades

DevoursGlassDashallom

HarediחֲרֵדִיحريمIAMBIC

Incanroteblutpedantic

PolygonalPentameter

Los Angeles dust

Darts injects Tarsus

Fake news feeds

Cigarette clicks

Sparks id ἰδέα

Ideologos שאול

Sheol Mosaic

Muses Miso Milan

Hover יְהֹוָה אּיּוֹב

Cumbia crashes

Cash values jazz

Jamesian Judith

Alpha Beta scripts

Greece wrap crumbles

Slowly as if an Athenian scroll

Omniscient Reductio Ad

A black man gets hand

Cuffed for no reason

Other than suspicion

On the Baroque black

Handles of clubs dead

Dictated to diversity En

Turing I feel falsely sick

I crank Orphic doors of

What white reality star

Junkies call yogic pre

Sets to squared squalor

Molotovs Mescaline Hanoi

Confucius orders

Whiter-window-Franco-frames

Chiến tranh biên

Giớ graphics warps grime

Onorange ImmolatingLips

BeatLicks Napalm មែរក្រហម

Neo-Modernestá Haiku

Four two de fleur Pounds pure pulse

Weiss Cantos syncopate

Rhythms slit black Beats

Nothing Alles Daseins Eveningstar

Techne Crescendos

Crushing Formality

IntoOneSingularity

Haiku coup de grâce

Lunatic in Rome

LenaLina

LunarLunatic

I Am Perhaps

Phallically Persian in

Sane wither art thou

Hathors’ pharmakon

Canaanite Hebraic

Musique laws of

Modal Concrète

Walls mayFreeze // Fall

Dusting bildungs

Roman Catholics

Protestants from

All white sashes

1

1/59 Vegas ‘17

I listened a crystal shaman

in Phoenix

sing how last seconds

dying brain releasing DMT

be a rollercoaster

Japan train reversing

through a hologram forest

history of adolescence:

I hoped I’d see her diet Darth Vader

voice happen again

(masseter cheek muscle

a raised cinnamon stick).

I wanted to watch my clone

wanting to grab a gold fig

from her throat

(always sheathed by beige neck

skin till scattering atoms).

Those last 2 minutes are cinema, 60

years re-lived, he said.

Though right now (is right now

right now?) I can’t picture

concert sunset, legislation, trigger

behind linguistic sheet music,

TICK a tick a TICK a tick.

Maybe I imagined it (sorry:

here is two dimensional

literal

hard to remember)

or maybe I missed

the chemical trip

since my cerebrum beds half

a hot Nevadan bullet or

inside each death hole of us

waits an extinct accordion

with only two notes, repeated:

always isn’t, always isn’t?

1 - Austin Beaton

2 - Rose Knapp