September 24-30, 2012: Jesse Bradley and Ryan Ramon Weaver

J. Bradley and Ryan Ramon Weaver


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J. Bradley
senryujournalist@gmail.com

Bio (auto)

J. Bradley is the Web Editor of Monkeybicycle and the Falconer of Fiction at NAP. Offline, he lives in Orlando, FL. Online, he lives at http://iheartfailure.net.

The following work is Copyright © 2012, and owned by Jesse Bradley and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Our Skin Is Our Jewelry

I accidentally baptized myself
with Evan Williams and Coke,
sought contrition against
the small of your back.

I wielded apologies like hatchets,
cut hand hold in your clothes
to climb, grip when the gust
of your shoulder shrug rushed past.

Around you, I go from Steve to Stefan,
your arms a science barely explained.


Lee Road

The ice cubes ran from The Everglades
sweating from the mop.

Our flask prepared us against
the questionable New York zip code
of our pizza slices.

In fifty years, our server could be
the love interest from The Notebook.


What I Did That Evening

With whiskey as a periscope,
I can see your house from here.

My pupils flinch at your open
bathroom window. I wait, hope
Alfred Hitchcock doesn’t appear
in this scene.

I’ll wear an oversized suit as power armor,
build a second story on your house,
play an acoustic Paper Jamz guitar
outside your new bedroom; the bed
isn’t on fire until we say so.


Ryan Ramon Weaver
senryujournalist@gmail.com

Bio (auto)

Ryan Ramon Weaver is from Laguna Niguel, California. He has been writing in a conscious, progressive manner for the past 6 years. He draws and paints as well and has been for over 8 years now. Ryan’s main focus with anything is understanding, and it shows for the most part in his artwork and writings. He tries to attempt to grasp an understanding of our social condition, whether it be the good, bad or ugly and convey it as honestly as he can, though at certain points one must eventually choose a side.

The following work is Copyright © 2012, and owned by Ryan Ramon Weaver and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

A Goodbye

History has moments when
the present negates
the allotted heap of time.
Those moments are city
streets
looking lovely from the night
just as the Sun begins his stretch
to the subtle sound of
work,
stirring up the dawn.
The concrete, glass, this place.
I haven’t slept yet and either has
this city,
she’s still in her towel, standing,
smiling
in the kitchen drinking her water
holding the mug with both hands.
This street has it all,
but I’m still in that kitchen somehow,
and I’m still smiling.