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Strange
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Shit's Tight
The Right
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Second Chance
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Girl Crush
Austin In
The Aftermath
Sippin' Brews
With Chris Trew
Wouldn't It Be
Tight If...
Say Girl,
What's Your Night?
Death Wish
After The
Blood Rush
I Hate You!
Pooh In Nam
Movies That Ruined
My Childhood
Tax Bills And
Ice Cream Thrills
Ass Wind
Nerdilinger
Hangover Hungries
Comix By
Complete Dix
Reviews
Written Word
A Day In The Life
A Year Of
Loco Nunca
Final Rites
© Loco Nunca Enterprises.
All Rights Reserved.
WHAT I THOUGHT THEN
poem by allanah jackson
We are the children who own the evening.
With the bright sequin eyes
sewn in by our mothers
for better seeing
fleeting things
we chase the suburban spirit
through the weeds.It is an intricate thing –
spirit hunting,
because it hides in the ditches and alleys
of dreams.
So we invent little rhythms
that we stamp out
and sing,
to give it a form
to give it a meaning.In our neighborhood of dollhouses
marionette people on strings
smile at us
in our child costumes
hunting down something they cannot see.And their smiles say
they still have the eyes
for spirit hunting.
They still have half a mind
to sell the old house
and move to the country
where the fields are wide
and the grass is green
and there aren’t so many structures
for a spirit to hide between.Yet, the mowers still mow
and the TVs still glow
an electronic blue
that warms living rooms.They go on
because the spirit is always
a chase through the weeds,
hidden always behind layers
of brick and debrisand string people are distracted
by string people things.But our crepe paper ears
are designed for listening
and we think we can hear
the spirit voice whispering
a scissor – themed blessing:Everyone, everywhere is waiting for you.
Everyone, everywhere is waiting for you.