Zombie by Jay Brannan

barn doors

red glass jar    //   bells surround us
caught up

in beaches    //   shirts undone, tuxedos
on the floor,  i hear

morning.

two verses later   //   gates open, and
there you are, like six pages

in a magazine   //  unfolded, just
waiting

for me.
white glass cups    \\   and two gold rings
on

my finger    \\   it is you. (you're the one).
ocean

back to ocean   \\   i keep waiting
for you.

you come, blue lights flashing   \\    and i know.

(at last).
you're the one.

Outloud by Dispatch

dublin

standing (unknown) on your shoulders
i

go to face the challenge
of the sea.

i fly up (with the power)
of its wake,
floundering

like a ragged bust   of athena
out

here, on the front of the boat,
holding on and climbing

evermore

up to the crest, trying to save
(someone else) from

the godlike power
of its beat, from

the charming, churning swirl

of ocean

as it stands, all alone,
against the

shoulders of the world.
i try

to save you      from the sea...

Under My Skin by Peter Bradley Adams

nullah

letting go, i watch you
crawl

under my skin, facing time

like   it's made of steel,
spinning

smoke lines down
like snakes

and

i feel the shrouds of   your skin curl
around

my neck, like

birds with fingers     and
i wish you

hadn't come.
it gets hot out    here
in the summer.

i hold

your reptilian gaze
scaly, slow,    i hold it down          

and

i
listen

to the steady sound   of
your

hissing laugh,   like a heat lamp...

Walkaways by Counting Crows

rime

i think about
the three times    you left me.
you

stay beneath
my skin    like a cystic growth.

i remember you
being

between the lines,
fondly        and then
not

so fondly,

and it leaves me     like an empty house.
i like it

better, this way.
foreign,

and grown,    with falling down
edges

and criss-crossed lines, faded
dresses

and albatross.

Things You Call Fate by Sondre Lerche

nom de guerre

i picture you (hunched over) reading this
at your computer

in

your room, and
everything is gray (except)

for

the little bit of paint
on

my face, the red and blue,
dripping down

the gauntlet of my nose
like
(teardrops)

and

i picture you
(painting a picture of me) thinking,

head in hands,
about the human condition,

and

about what happens (when) we
paint angels

that never come out
of

their rooms...

Come Round Soon by Sara Bareilles

vice

i gather all of them
up

in my arms (like flies),
my vices

(one by one)

i throw them down
while

holding on (and you, you break
over

and over again, ripping
open

boxes

like somebody else's christmas
until, finding nothing,
you return

to light it up
just

one more time) and
i come back.

i throw them all (in your face),
the reasons

i subscribe to you.
i

blow them out
(like smoke)...

Coming Down by David Gray

air

empty morning
(we keep trying)

to
spell out your name
in

the shape of the trees,
morning sidewalks

and

stoic little arcs
of
the sprinkler systems

(we keep turning them on)
and

the glue
that holds this suburbia
together

is
the empty longing
for

the coolness of you,
(the cheek tug and lonely burst  of winter),
and

how you blow through,
unannounced.
(we keep on going...)