Planet of the Arts, vol.4, no.3 I miss you You were my love and my life You were my inspiration Now you're not even a friend Fuck LOOK Not everything is so god-damned serious Okay? So relax, and talk to me Tell me things Come on COME ON Jesus Christ - What do I have to do? Let it go Let it go Let it free your body, let it move your soul So how do! do that? Boom shucka boom shucka Shucka boom Shucka boom boom Shucka boom boom boom : . Dance to the beat Aleanvecl eke torecl Atk 7 long ungbig stare of a sub-atomic particle : Dance to shucka shucka boom shucka Dance to the beat Shucka boom shucka boom Of a leaf in the wind Shucka shucka shucka boom shucka : Of the dots in the sky SLEEP Shucka boom boom boom boom boom Of your own Prison of space boom thoughts, facts shucka littlest parts flesh around the nostrils antisepti oz Ido not come ke. his back half-cracked, blood To disturb ai beneath his fingernails Aenea to participate turns to dust and devours the ring That disturbs you. _ of rust around his skull ke. and yet silhouette calms the memory extending like a desert plain effervescent an icicle to the heart Bradley Paul The Three Bears A apose ur cussileee woulolat claw The wind turns the sky over and over and daylight tumbles in, I'm a tired old she-bear with her playful cub as the morning rituals begin. Like tattered gloves torn from fingertips rusted fragments fly, I watch from the warmth while trees tremble violently : pointing bare bones at the sky. An old bear of a cloud ambles over the horizon then lumbers out of view, Sitting here in this chair, The air has opened : a square of place I can't help myself now acalling space in front of me. my thoughts drift back to you. not awhisper not a scream a bidding dream I try to taste AMI the unheard music. Clouds ripple in patterns I fly through listening narcissi: as the wind turns to my cello deep See me seed and banks into a wave- vibrating sleep inside of me of my own t.v. show tip the ground tip the view li Images from under the eves overwhelmed people who know but dreams know a to you somewhere yoodebin. 98 paptaisb 8 raat doping deep in your cave. Jeanne Rogowski am I really alive or an empty casing a product of this world's Zeitgeist. Jeanie Sundland ‘The Professional Image Kevin Louis Planet of the Arts, vol.4, no.3 ‘SLEEP Prison of space ‘thoughtsfocts flesh around the nostrile ae ‘il back halferacked, blood Beneath his fingernaits ‘turns to dust and devours the ring of rus around his sll ‘The Three Bears ‘The wind turns the sky ever and aver and alight tumbles in, Tm atired old she-bear ith her plagfit cud asthe morning rituals begin. Like tattered gloves ‘orn from fingertips ‘rusted fragments fly wate from the warmth hile tree tremble violently ‘pointing bare bones atthe sky. Anold bear of cloud ‘ambles over the horizon ‘hen tumbers out of oi, Sitting herein this chair, Tean't help myelf now ‘my thoughts drift back to you Clouds ripple in patterns asthe wind tarne end banks ino orca. Images from under the eves to you somewhere deep in your cave, Jeanie Sundland he ground tp the view Soret roel ‘Jesus Christ- What do Ihave to dot Letit go Latte [Let it freo your body, let it ‘move your soul ‘Sohhawdo Ido that? fa loafin the wind Of the dots in the sky furan boom ‘abclen Utitet parts "who know but dreams knoww Fearaleherae me as light. Jeanne Rogowski ‘am Treally alive ‘The Profmdona ge Kevin Louis