• Angels – Krista Schwimmer
• Stop the Ride – Jim Mussio
• Basking in My Element – Roxanna Gómez Sequeira
• To Bill Rosendahl – Mary Getlein
• inside the Talking Stick – Roger Houston
• Yo Saturnalia – Jim Smith

————

Angels
i sleep in
a bed of angels —
All through the night
their long wings
stroke me
peeling my body away
until i am
as radiant as selenite —
Their feathers
finger the crevices where
i have hidden
(like Blue Beard)
the corpses of old lovers —
The night sky
salted with stars
protests and pulls out
one luminous breast!
Still, they come
these grand seraphins
these cosmic feather dusters
and brush each body aside —
i sigh
slipping outside of my skin
once again
remembering outside of memory
once again
who i truly am.
–krista schwimmer

————
Stop the Ride

By Jim Mussio

Life moves in cycles stop the ride
i wave my flag up high and i surrender
i can taste those tears i’ll cry forced to remember
all that pain i felt the last time

no where does it say i’m set in stone
somehow i must find another way
the strength to turn my backside to the front
the will to walk a different way

Life moves in cycles stop the ride
i wave my flag up high and i surrender
i can taste those tears i’ll cry forced to remember
all that pain i felt the last time

it feels like i’ve been here before
the writings on the wall i can read
the warning signs are easy to see
but bad decisions are my tendency

I’m always drawn to the bad i think i need

Life moves in cycles stop the ride
i wave my flag up high and i surrender
i can taste those tears i’ll cry forced to remember
all that pain i felt the last time

Life moves in cycles stop the ride
i wave my flag up high and i surrender
i can taste those tears i’ll cry forced to remember
all that pain i felt the last time

————-

Basking in My Element

By Roxanna Gómez Sequeira

You, patiently and quietly, watch
Persisting through the storms
Knowing all along
I am strong
In my chaos and pitfalls
I come up tall
You look and see
There is no other like me
Keep up, come on!
My path is steep, deep
And leads to a rapid fall
In purifying, tranquil waters
I float with glee
Towards the setting sun
In the distant aquablue sea
You will find me
Basking in my element
Waiting
To dive in
Deliciously

————

To Bill Rosendahl

You were right and I was wrong-
You do have the power to take people away
The cop says:
“Hey I know it seems like we’re Nazis-
but I’m just doing my job”
The job?
Jacking people out of their vehicles
and arresting them for the crime of being poor.
The crime of having no place else to live but a vehicle.
All my friends are leaving Venice
It’s the beginning of the end
they are either being kicked out by the police
or leaving because they see what is happening.
All the houses are filling up with rich people.
All the parking places are filling up with their luxury cars.
There is no room at the inn,
Or in a parking place.
People with gifts of music and art are being
pushed out by the highest bidder.
Capitalism wins again.
They won’t be happy until everyone is arrested
and “disappeared”
Then they can drink their wine out of crystal goblets
and never have to see a poor person again.

–Mary Getlein

————-
12:53 Monday, November 22, 2010, inside the Talking Stick….. My teacher, Mrs. Kimble, was called out, And notified, and here I sadly note How she returned in tears, dismissing us, Without explaining, so mysterious. The childish banter followed me, each step, Through snow drifts and the wintry chill. I stop To hear the speculation. But. once home, Recall how I was greeted by my mom. We sat together, watching; I let slip How I thought it was communists. I trip, Remembering that moment: two of us, Transfixed on such a tragedy, a mess, Revisited years later, and I note How it was the same day, to miss a lot…..Roger Houston, New Castle, Indiana, 1963. happy thanksgiving, mom.

————
Yo Saturnalia
(the original Christmas)

By Jim Smith

At the bottom of the year
we are soaked with fear

of economic loss thruout the land
and no leaders who will take a stand

The days dwindle away
And night comes to stay

Then festive Saturnalia arrives
and the social world comes alive

Yes, it’s true, Venice is now quite a fright
But a new year is being born this very night

The Sun – and days of revels – are coming again
in our happy land where love is not a sin

A toast to a new year of kindness and peace in faraway lands
And all across our fair city, to the poor a helping hand.

Citizens of Venice, let’s end the strife
and enjoy another year of light and life