My Neighbor’s Fruits

By Colton Claye

I noticed the apples on my neighbor’s tree

They stood there

No fences around them

Vulnerable to my imagination

I felt the warmth of pies

Tasted cool ciders

They hung there

As the tree exhaled

Tempting me

Though not tracking followers

They didn’t aspire to write memoirs

Or symphonies

Or set a date for lunch

They didn’t answer to names

Like Gala

Or Granny Smith

Or Red Delicious

Or fill out forms with them

How fulfilled they looked

To my empty stomach

About the author

Colton Claye, a native of Milwaukee, WI, is an author, songwriter, visual artist, and an advocate for all conscious creatures. His work has been featured in a wide variety of print and digital publications. His latest release, The Percussive Sun, is a collection of surrealist poetry. He sends you warm regards

Notes From An Ethiopian Cafe

By colton Claye

When we break bread together, our hands pulling it apart
and using it to scoop and consume communal stews,
we are tearing apart the barriers of self.

When we rotate the plate
and take from the same lump of lentils,
we get confused
and we lose
the illusions of "you" and "me",
"yours" and "mine".

And just like this fermented teff,
which is baked
and becomes the bread we break and digest,
we too must build up and break down.

We are unbothered by that fact while we eat
and while this meal is all that sits between two people,
and we keep the injera turning together.
But once we pay the bill and walk away from the table,
we see ourselves separate once more
and the struggle to lose oneself begins again.

About the author

Colton Claye, a native of Milwaukee, WI, is an author, songwriter, visual artist, and an advocate for all conscious creatures. His work has been featured in a wide variety of print and digital publications. His latest release, The Percussive Sun, is a collection of surrealist poetry. He sends you warm regards

I Looked and saw

by dandy j. west

I looked into your eyes and saw memories.

Memories of few nights of passion and many nights longing alone.

Seeing that look in your eyes at my recognition was satisfying.

But, nothing can soothe the damage that was done.

Your eyes meeting mine brought back a hurt that I was confident was gone.

A hurt I never wanted to feel again caused by your lack of care.

Your eyes showed the lust you once had for me has flown.

You have eyes now for another.

Another who loves you unconditionally and faithfully.

Seeing your eyes meet mine, I know you've considered the situation carefully.

Here we are, our eyes locked in an unsuspecting embrace.

At one time this held so much meaning.

Now, as shocking as it is to look into those baby blues again, my heart still races.

I hate your eyes.

I don't want to look into them and see our short memories.

Memories of confusion. Memories of tears.

Memories of lies.

Look away as you don't deserve the love still in my eyes.

A love I ran from.

A love that wasn't real.

A love the eyes hate and the heart denies.