Never Think by Rob Pattinson

walking

rhythm of footsteps
(hungry for the rain)

i wait.

i wait for the approaching doom,
for

the inevitable cessation
of life

as (the mockingbirds) know it...
they

swoop and dive,
laugh

at us

divining plans (for futures) from our trees
and

i listen.
i listen to the branches
hum and sway,

knocking out sunlight
and

spreading (gnarly) old branches
toward

the grass,
and

i think (i think) about the day
the

tree will fall...

Breakdown More by Eric Hutchinson

bees

without you
(the nursery buzzes), baby

in

georgia o'keeffe - type sounds

and (oh), i see you too.
you

look like santa fe:
circles on the floor,

asking (me to sing).
i

like  you too, if
only

you would ask.
the kids (who) call me mother
talk

about you

all the time, turquoise eyes
and hands

like pottery barn
and

steeples,
hot air balloons

in the desert.
i'm the queen.

Elizabeth, You Were Born To Play That Part by Ryan Adams

clutch

fighting (tooth and nail)
cut open,

frames on (the side of the road)
and

chain smokers
(off the chain)
going

slow, (there), i didn't.

i flung it open.
i saw you

(going by),
holding on, thumb out,
waiting

for me.
(don't hear it) i listen,

wait for dark

to overtake us,
wash

off the things (i didn't like).
i

wait for it to come (to surrender),
wholehearted,

to the white     unknown.
it

is the chance (i take).
some things, like nebulas,
you

don't (want)   to remember.

Another Lonely Day by Ben Harper

ruching

staring at the wall / i study
the stucco,

analyzing patterns /

and

looking for your name.
i

discover my own, written
backwards,
by the door,

all alone.

someone / put it there
once,

(one day)

thinking of me / and
so,

(still believing)
the world of possibility awaits, and
i
look for it, upside down,
decorative pleats

crying hard
like steam
on

the mirror...
things

always end /where they begin.

Do You Think There's a Heaven? by Danna/Devotchka

poshly

standing un/edited in
the sun,

lens flare (and starbursts)
brushes

on my head/the freckles beam

and
maybe it's you.

maybe you're a stoner,
un/done,

calling me/from above
and

waiting
to catch me/in a net
of

ultra/violet

light.
that's all.
maybe it was you.

i keep checking,
opening

the/pandora's little box,
exposing

the world (with light), and
finding

nothing. it's you.
maybe it's you.

Yellow by Chris Martin

aperture

yes, these are (paper flowers)
latin

america (twisted)
into plastic fronds

(lying) still
above my heart,
giving up

before
they

start to melt,
puddles of petals

laid down
(dogs barking)
life giving

into you,
holding on.

i fill these vases
with

memories (hollow thin)
false(hoods)

and

hold them up
for

you to see, (for you to photograph)
for you to

idolize (and break),
forever...

i          

hold them up for you.

Leave by Glen Hansard

travesty

seeing my name written
back/wards

in the wall, letting go
(one

purple cotton robe with
dis/mally frayed
edges

broken

on the ground (it seeps in)
now)

that you/re gone.
one

year gone (and idiotic advances)
three/steps

back (i

exit stage left/ and
open up my hand.)
you

fly out/like birds
and

i pull away,
just like before