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we, the notorious pronouns

DANGERUS

issuu.i 3/19/2011


Š 2011 We, the notorious pronouns

All right reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without expressed permission of the author(s).

Managing Editors: John Cuttito, Jeremy Lessard, Katherine Kurtz This issues contributing pronouns are: Adrien D’Angelo, Alexandra Clifton, Annie Highley-Smith, Bobby Clark, Claire Gay, Claire Paniccia, Dave Watts, Elyse Brown, Jennifer Skelton, Jeremy Lessard, John Cuttito, Katherine Kurtz, Kayla Rizzo, Kayla White, Letson Williams, Michael Koh, Patrick Riedy, Rachel Vertino, Ruth Dosch, Spencer Carr, Vincent Cervone Cover Designs by Jeremy Lessard original poem by Derek Beaulieu

Proof Positive Publishing Buffalo, NY Are you Notorious? Send submissions to wethenotoriousp@gmail.com And make sure to visit us for all upcoming events, books and, e-zines @ www.notoriouspronouns.com


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table.of.contents. katherine.kurtz…………………………………………………………………………………………...5 elyse.brown………………………………………………………………………………………….........6 john.cuttito.………………………………………………………………………...................................8 spencer.carr......……………………………………………………………………..............................11 letson.williams……………………………………………………………………………………….…12 alex.clifton.......………………………………………………………………………............................15 adrien.d’angelo……………..…………………………………………………………………………..18 rachel.vertino..………………………………………………………………………………………….19 jennifer.skelton………………………………………………………………………………………...21 kayla.rizzo.......................................................................................................................................23 patrick.riedy..................................................................................................................................24 claire.paniccia...............................................................................................................................30 claire.gay.........................................................................................................................................31 kayla.white.....................................................................................................................................32 bobby.clark.....................................................................................................................................36

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michael.koh....................................................................................................................................37 jeremy.lessard...............................................................................................................................40 dave.watts.......................................................................................................................................42 vincent.cervone............................................................................................................................43 ruth.dosch.......................................................................................................................................45 letson.williams..............................................................................................................................46 annie.highly-smith......................................................................................................................47

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DANGERUS Poison. when i was younger my mother did not let me buy the quarter drinks at the bagel store you know the ones in small plastic jugs with an aluminum top or was it plastic and ripped off like a gallon-milk top and they did not come in flavors they came in colors like red and orange and purple and green and blue and looking back the opaque liquid sloshed in those jugs like candy-colored acid like if you spilled some on your shirt goodbye shirt the acid would eat right through and forget about the carpet or the wooden floor or your insides they were goners too but it didn’t stop me from wanting to drink the sweet elixir either way she would not allow it often i would beg in the supermarkets and the grocery stores and i would usually get my way but not this no katherine she said that’s poison poison i tell you and no daughter of mine is going to be poisoned while i can help it and of course i was very moved emotionally by this i was very traumatized mom i said mom how could companies make poisoned drinks and sell them to people and kids drink this shit and die i was scandalized then of course one time

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DANGERUS when my mom was not around i accompanied my younger cousin to the bagel store for a bialy with butter butter because cream cheese on a bialy is sacrilege and watch her purchase these aforementioned toxic quarter drinks to which my reply was you fucking idiot don’t you know these things are poisoned to which she says like fuck they are i’ve been drinking these things for months so now i’m pissed for three reasons one because i’ve been missing out on these quarter drinks my whole life two because my mother pulled one over on me worse than when she and my spinster aunt michelle gave me coal for christmas not poison i see now not poison and i bet the fruit roll-ups at the korean market are not poison either that bitch and three because now i look like a dipshit in front of my shithead little cousin and that’s the night i set my house on fire.

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Order 66

Oh goody. Today I am the Queen made of rough bricks piled up to a great black rim. Today I am the King trying to get sixteen, seventeen, eighteen thousand miles away from billowing, white chalk trim. The outlines get in the way. Let’s run, create deep bruises in everything we touch. Slide, jive, groove past black rims. Jump, scream, push past white trims. Outlines cease to matter when I have the color.

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A wise man once said to me: “Nipples are made to be broken as are rules” Then proceeded to take so many pharmaceuticals He thought he could feels his cuticles grow And watched as his thoughts appeared With the occasional authoritative stroke of his beard Sitting inside of his own head he said I can’t feel a thing I think I must be dead He tells me he is only energy struggling to fill the spaces Between the questions and the places That his very existence is resistance to being nothing At this point he looked at me and screamed Why won’t anyone remember that we once dreamed About how we are all humans and not cars With freedom love and voices Free to live and make choices Free to decide to the take the ride Or just hide and let it all slide on by

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DANGERUS Why does it always feel like I am Hiding again under rugs and drugs Behind this strangers grin But he gives such great big hugs When he lets me in And his smile is large enough to swallow me whole He holds all the dice but he’s just waiting to roll Who is he with those brown eyes in the mirror’s soul Now he’s tied to those words that they spoke in a bed Wishing he could take back that skin that he shed And turn in reverse the sadness of the clocks hands Who’s only regret is it can never go back only further on

Time drags us forward never listens to what our madness demands We will all wake one day to find our parents dead our children gone Or discover a loved one had slipped through our grasp a grain of sand in an hourglass All the sadness in the world won’t change it Even if we had all the pieces laid out before us we still Couldn’t rearrange it

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DANGERUS And you might think it strange that I don’t care but The money for rent was all spent and on drugs and beer

Cheap thrills I fear but that’s why I’m here can’t ignore the world because I’m still on it even if I can’t find the right words to omit The things you’ve forced me to feel I hate to admit it sometimes I’m not even sure it’s all real Or what real even means I’ve had my life ripped apart so many times from the seams that it seems I’ll never wake up from these dreams I open my eyes you turn and you leave I try a new heart it only knows how to grieve instead I pin the old one back onto my sleeve

Fuck it I feel like I’m wasting my time just trying to breathe

A wise man once said to me “rules are made to be broken as are nipples but remember rules always grow back”

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DANGERUS "The Great Pig in the Sty"

It's the involuntary breath heavy And deadlier than cigarettes Carried inert up nostrils in whirlwinds Pecked off feathertips onto mind's highest plane Alive it leaps suicidal into every firing synapse Then sensing metastasis in the lightless cavity The riddled invalid howls: Let it all end! I'll end oozing Invigorating proximate soil with my cells. Fertilizer before they could even box it up. Sometimes I blame the world for parents even meeting prior to a realistic assessment of Earth's circumstances; for the conflation of primal urges with a four-letter abstraction; and for the so many lonely weeping and acutely aware: What's wrong with it? I take after them in every other way.

But bubbles occasionally break the murk's surface Kelpcovered simulacra sound their approach with drips of viscid swampwater Plants tremble in the wake of a ragged braid trailing from its left fist The featureless drags some body veiled by mire onto the banks Her? head has a gentle sucking in Earth's caress Drawn cautiously to the immobile mound instinctive hands squeegee off a face aged but not unfamiliar The burning lifeform’s eyes smile in acknowledgment as a warmth buds in the guts Didn’t even notice those mud stains that were seeping cold and uncomfortable into the jeans’ knees

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DANGERUS the marble hearted with their jars taking cues from motion picture stars by letson williams

if someone only listened/only heard/only knew tried to keep him alive what would he do? glimmer

wins

but only at night it’s easy to tell the wrong from the right it’s not so easy to follow through marbles underfoot oceans too iknowwhattodoiknowwhattodo i know how to say it

just don’t know if it’s true

this music

it’s making me you is it telling the truth?

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this one’s a smile this one’s a joke this is that one time you convinced me to smoke this one’s amazing that one’s apparent the one by the door is simply inherent

what a mess now that it’s all come to naught your sisters, d’ they tell you?

weren’t you taught? LOOK! this one here’s from ninety-six that one is made out of bitters and bricks that one waited until the drums had gone out this one looks like sam smith’s oatmeal stout the one on the rug is certainly too proud to ever call back or say it out loud

and there’s two in the kitchen made entirely of lust and one so well hidden you might think that it’s

us

the promise you made is the promise i keep every night when and before i can sleep when angles are open and arrogance dies when

the hopes/hearts/and dreams

mix with the supplies

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when the last of the gentle have eaten and gone and your line of defense is a tom waits song it’s the saddest sound that you’ve ever heard without the need

for a guitar or a word

and the pride that you thought would carry you through is as useless to me as

white boy blues but every syllable leaving her mouth is soft and assuring just like the south

hope is fantastic and meaning the word the melody felt not the melody heard the remedy thought but never applied and the lonely ghost of a question

why? Page 14


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Marble hearts (ii)

The marble-hearted live in jars transparent glass balls that when pushed fall, stars from a black sky delicate colours stain the ground: red-green blue-green blue becoming the scene of a crime whenever someone new decides they cannot choose the beautiful heart permanent love-rocks in a pile stacked high mile: symbol of love or fear of what awaits if you fall if you fail time will tell only time will clarify the broken glass and black eyes hope for happiness in wide hiding smiles to gape to peer to seek and spy into another heart

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if they

a vain attempt to see the same

are

(they needn't)

the marble-hearted know the sight: quartzy skin

unable to mask

loose feelings within as they wait the heart

is released

by dissembling eye false flirtation waiting for

for the moment

when

once again

a fancy flight

marbles to cascade

through the body

past liver crawl around kidneys fill lungs until until (and until) you cannot breathe replacing the nerves when

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DANGERUS every foreign touch is fire versus ice, hands frosted cold to the warm touch. The marble-hearted have nothing to hide save jarred hearts which need safekeeping elsewhere — in another house another town — so they can slink into bars and sit in sad silver cars staring at talkative stars – their hidden scars – without wondering if they will vomit beads so they do not fear that the chick in the corner the bloke at the bar is reading their hearts unlocking secrets openly suitable for mocking.

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in a given momen


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DANGERUS “Light Touches”

Listening for a playful commune, Pressed fingertips impart, In-order to escape the silence…

Strewn, are light touches, smoothly there, Wishful invocation, Overzealous, and some conquering.

Aware, he fumbles with subtlety, nearly Slipping, his nerves at end, Restraint; pulling back, his motives kept. Yet they would release from him, again.

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American Dinner

You’ve got no right You think that I stay up all night But it’s all right It’s not affecting me infecting me With germs & misery It’s disrespectful, see These facades Have got To go I thought You were My friends, Ya know? Stilettos Manifestos I’m so blessed, yo Blessed by what, tho? We’ll never know We prod and we poke We question, we choke He stood up, he spoke now he’s broken, a joke my brother angry without a mother spits his beats like RunDMC but he’ll never be

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DANGERUS a real MC because his mind can never, ever be free so I guess Jesus lord god just got tired and quit his fucking job i guess after he created the seas and the skies he decided they could be filled with corruption and lies The omnipotent one needed to rest, some say My brother must have been created on Sunday Cuz that’s the day that he quit, right? Everything was done Nothing else to do after you create the sun People suck, so fuck it, right? There’s no reason to put up any fight We sit just like this In our little cozy homes & pollute our fucking domes with lies and suburban sacrifice while our kids get head lice just the throw of the dice, right? we chill and sit still & accept This disgusting mess Because Adam & Eve bit into the apple so just watch your sitcoms And drink your diet fucking Snapple And let’s just die all fucking winners And eat our mediocre chicken dinners If ignorance is bliss and this Is life Fuck cutting your chicken & give me that knife 1.oct.10

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red chipped standing tall thick tan brick wall black tar lawn melts mid day sun no rose bush left no love right passing train trembles foundations some times I wish it would crumble to pieces over my head so it can no longer be held there haunted coughing creeps from the floor orange-yellow hue cant make me forget you good bad

often ugly

rooms where we stand don’t resemble rooms where we stood maps and travel brochures ticket stubs and photographs jelly donut glaze for lips remake history government cheese in cupboard insulin fridge trays and toys no longer get thrown but words are whipped in the air shattering to pieces ricocheting off faux hard wood floor mop behind the locked back door knobs where keys wont fit anymore

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steep steps to darkened hall ways cause for concern a safety hazard for sure if i clicked my heels three times i would no longer be here the entry way to the junk yard behind return to time when numbers had to be spun french doors separated 60’s kitchen eye level with the counter the mission bus beeps blue brick building center of the neighborhood pre school children sing and clap songs we know jesus loved me then this little light of mine i never let it shine was it ever inside forever make my way back shuffle my feet to Peabody Street

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“On Letters and Names�

Oblivion throbbing between the ears is how life must feel in the memory of the dead. Love must feel like blooming, must feel like exploding like universe, like making love to the universe cosmic toes

curling in that rush.

And in the death of our memories waiting for earth to swallow us whole I imagine the end would sound

a parade of brass not unlike

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a growling stomach.


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im afraid my dads lost its meaning even though he hasnt changed im afraid my citys lost its feeling disappeared: brick roads

buz-n-bee noble men no longer

those were the days south buffalo was big now its just white some black mostly blue dangerous ways of finding it bat your lashes wink at me giggle on my piano sing as sweet as your smell make heart beat in my fingertips pour yourself niagara falls between your legs falling on bricks erode earth underneath

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DANGERUS knew even less than you it comes back in him it flows back on you everybody at some point shuffles onto buffalo have you always been here too?

everything you can put your hands on grab disappear slowly still used in schools overshadowed by westerns and space stories left at building columns real working class people educated but not the kind you think and they know how to drink they have conversational prowess heres a mess for me to sort out buffalo get your shit together we better go write a book chew tobacco drink something else

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DANGERUS or more the same

snippets of your work everywhere rugged american area out on the ocean during the war unforgiving cruel something my father would do im afraid my fathers already dead and my mother means little to me shorty, my uncle, who was perfectly round he usta get along with my ma usta care for my gramma now cares for big trucks pensions retirement funds he musta learned how to forget learned to die slowly lights give bare trees along elmwood some life in winter but its fake electricity

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DANGERUS a sad attempt at materiality buffalo, i saw you in spot yesterday i wasnt sure it was you you had your head down in a book pen in mouth winter hat hangin off your head you had a grande whatever a plate of crumbs and pencil lead it was around the time i looked at the trees it was about the time i fell in love with you remember when spoken arts was on the radio? we listened to Fred Wah all the fun we usta have sledding on the steps of the knox fishin frozen lakes skippin through books giving me the ‘come here’ look moist lips hard dicks buffalo, get your sweet ass over here we usta own this town own these people own these days own our lives live our lives cry all day laugh all night bleed blue blood kissin our kids

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DANGERUS we usta love like birds you said and fuck like rabbits i thought we philosophized the french tickled our tongues smoke up snort up shoot up get shot down and pick ourselves up outta bed we usta sleep with strangers live like kings smoke the best weed pretty ladies smelling all kindsa sweet talking our ears off in prose and free verse ending in haikus or worse we were this fucking town we made this city bright we came back once but cant live like that no more cant make this city burn like we usta cuz i said it once ill say it now my dad dont mean much to me anymore and that means you dont either do you? but

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who the fuck am i kiddin im a tortured soul a poet the yellow bridge or even that tall building will remind me of you buffalo ill think of niagara falls fallin on bricks inspectin your gadget i feel like i got you and thats all that matters now i feel like i have you buffalo dad poetry baby i feel like im in love with you what more can i ask here now then now we were kings, arent we?

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DANGERUS Remembering the past before it happened

We drove in the direction houses shrank street gutters deepened

green turned gold

Joe was smoking on the reservation for migratory birds

Superior instinct is that of the addict I became comfortable with altered perception and at last found

in the marbled madness of Renee’s eyes

there was her refuge

her reason

her brain storm became the night

Blue wind swept through the golden grass and hair the purpose of this afternoon outing became clear if the children remembered their dreams correctly fate would never be

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Oh Poetry, How I long to comb your hair & touch you all warm & radiant, grabbing your ass, rubbing your pink nipples & kissing you Poetry, Where have you gone? I want Morphine days w/ Ginsberg in India to come back home & find America pregnant & swollen, staying high up ‘til 3 on tea & amphetamines contemplating jazz w/ angels Oh Poetry, why have you left me? you use to cum when I was drunk & kiss my sheets,

I would wake up to find you gone but your trace lingered still Poetry, I caught a glimpse of you in the brush wild crazy & naked screaming & beating your chest you were beautiful & still are

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Poetry, I’m in love with you.

Poetry, I miss your presence your strength, passion, & lunacy driving twisted souls to misery & madness, so deeply lost in your midnight eyes of despair that they put on petty coat straitjackets of rocks & threw themselves into the abyss Poetry, you are w/ me always I see you in the city crowded out of the corner of my eye You haunt me

Poetry, I saw you in a record store, in an asylum, in a hick bar on tuesday You sang blues all night & drank wine out of the tit paperbag bottle Dear Poetry, I still think about us sometimes

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How you left me naked & ashamed I tried to talk about it but you stood there silent Poetry, Opium told me that you are a philosopher & an albatross Poetry, I’ve lost my way the sun has turned dark & terrifying Won’t you take me home?

Poetry, you are out of focus my mist(ress) of blur, my memory escapes me the page slips Poetry! Are you justified? you left & why does the ending come in d.ts & dash/es in forests of golden keys?

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Poetry, you are Casanova, a sentimental fool, a goddess, sin enwrapped in leather, vocality of enlightenment exalted, natural, illustrious, a wisdom weaver silence simply compounded, impaired, the heritage of idea & strains of moments influx oral

Poetry you are spirit Poetry you are the manifestation of feeling Poetry you are words Poetry you are the poet

& if I say your name one last time will you still be

[

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Poetry]


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DANGERUS completion is no longer essential as essence is essentially excrement half a line is still a line completion is a task for an audience.

Virgil didn’t want his epic not with vulgar half-lines Postmodernism begins with Augustus

-isms are infectious misunderstood and strong chinned Rick says in reply, “My name is Pat”

an optimistic apocalypse in the Metropolis an Inception with no answers

Ask, don’t answer. Start, never finish. Infections are more useful than remedies, a spinning top will wobble—

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DANGERUS an audience will applaud‌

Continuation is a necessary evil equations are unprovocative algebra is easy to forget

can an answer be derived? does a limit exist?

universal truths have exceptions even death and taxes have exemptions Eliot worried, but we are no longer anxious our suburbs protect us the city is what worries us cloud cover parking meters disposable coffee Rent the old train station rectangles getting home. I’ll see you again, once the metanarratives develop

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more than just a dream window an idea a thought the thought molded wishes microwaved clock melt ironic irony need time I need time to melt time to stop pause time needs to melt in order to stop in time

thunder and light start stop buttons photic flames primed precession around the thought a thought driving and doodling paths through puddles windshield wiping dried withered wishes drops of (un)timely torments thrusted back into the wind

an idea add minute re-introduce I now it is it’s raining Fate with sounds and signs within letters numbers and words window wind shut connect goosebumped arms squeezed hand eye to e y e shoulder

conducing kiss something something happiness is spelled intricately intrigued nuances (for the nonce) if I can’t re-live re-tell the re-write then just re-play the re-writes by re-winding the re-tell to re-live as if it were all a dream

I dream to dream when you are when you become actual a smile not just more than just actually become tactile more than just a smile more than just smiles lost at intervals of the inductive arrhythmia

dream: 319,171,142,003

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tire-fear stems from my childhood in front you walk beside my soul as it unfurls

restless waiting doors will shut I say gap between falls short of expected length no distance anymore

bla blink twice if you’re in my proximity

truth is what it is can smell a televangelist from a mile away

“open up the letter,” she says to me.

let you in put you out. I felt her breath grace my shoulder blades, as I caressed the rough edges of the envelope.

skin folded spread open flew away untold bones

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clouds are in my eyelids doesn’t rain sun shines occasionally from my ears

“fall in love with me,”

puddle is for falling could swim a mile safer there to realize I’m alive

meet you on the other end what I mean is I think you I I

I

step around

clever words to twist the tongue to taunt the ear you’re all here waiting for the punch line to arrive

…NM JBV

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I

I


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post it notes instead

i was going to write a poem about how beautiful everything was but i woke up and the sun was not shining the sky gradients of

grayer than i have ever seen disinterest emanating from every passerby

i was going to write a poem about how love can lift you up and bounce your soul if such a thing even exists until you see it on your own face feel it on your own skin feel it sinking in

the dirty fingers grasp at love too even if they don’t know what to do

and the poem I was going to write

i didn’t

shouldn’t couldn’t

wouldn’t didn’t

i was going to write you a poem to say i’m sorry but so far

all i found was a smile at the sight of your strength in the scar

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blue birds flying in their black back drop drip dropping dripping with nostalgia and enveloping the empty spaces and faces and eyes once filled with wonder

strangled strangled strangled bruised broken and dead by the hands of wandering murderers of sunshine that will never line the trees

making shadows upon graves dug by dirty men dirty fingernails crusty with regret each granule craving a different existence a different fate for man insignificant men flitting their love's lives love lives on but will soon be blotted out a monster will eat the sun and scream from the highest point: “I wish I had ears!�

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Issuu I

DANGERUS to all who will listen to all the blind who will see to all the dead boys and girls playing in the sandlots with decomposing limbs scratching their beautiful diseases wiping the smell off in their castles for their sand princes and whores who wallow in the sickness of innocence stricken by poverty and neglect

wrecked by flowers flowering over a hypochondriac’s tomb roots encasing irony and satisfaction

skeletal fingertips itching to break the surface

lacking the strength for the last attempt at breath

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DANGERUS  

This is the notorious pronouns second publication. It features 21 of the best poets that the pronouns have encountered. Enjoy! If you like i...

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