Sommer

by Matt Kong

Scent of a girl

Golden Brown, with my mind she runs

a gypsy, a wanderer, Penny Lane — a free spirit and the like

follows the music carefree not a thought in the world.

Like the wind blowing up dandelions, scat

-tered — unable to return to form.

Opposite Vincent Vega, hands in

sideways Peace signs batusi

-ing past visages to a bygone rhythm…

Moody/fun it’s all so confusing what to do?

ze ze ze

bloody influence on me\

middle school short and sweet week

Done and Done

goddamn head pounds, literally in a haze

stupid stupor.

muse muse muse

Shakespeare had one

None, not at all.

Not for me.

Sand Crabs

by Dorothy Skates

The fine, foamy fingers
of an amber ocean
rake the seeds of pearls,
down a sloping shore,
to scattered, shifting villas
where the sand crabs live.