Walk the violent Sun by Don Brennan   Walk in the violent sun, Dangerous traveler.Scribble your name Into the database, kick up some dust.   Work your toes into wet sand, lie down for a while ants and biting insects under cover. Let the dark night bring you peace. Star will sing you to sleep.   Keep yourself safe for now, until your predatory history Curled in the high grass begins stretching at drawn, until you hear it coughing like a jaguar after restless sleep; a big cat coughing gunshots. Soon enough you will learn To drop down at the sound.   With approaching menace your eyes will wire themselves to the forces pounding inside your ribcage.   Fear is your truth, traveler, the sun your enraged but generous Mother who keeps her distance for you sake,   That you might discover   courage knowledge   and. oh yes, love on the path twisting towards our survival

Dali by Rennon   Fell asleep,..........Dreamed....... Imagined I was dreaming! Awoke.........Startled,..... a deeply disturbed self; Drifted back to sleep, Fantacized on being.......awake   Dali had a nightmare; Went through an enclosure A suffocating, ......... asfixiating entrapment With no squiggle space   Was it a .....meat grinding clockwork?   Had liquid time .....forgotten Dali existed? Fell from a height From   aborted divinity.trascendence laid waste. This was   SURREAL   He stumbled down, not from above but from   within, Into a picture he could not recognize;   Had that spirit he had captured In turn .........strangled him?   Dali had a fall; was this absinthian?                                                      Perhaps just Absent .                               Rennon nace  en La Ciudad de Los Angeles (California) Estudio teatro en la UCLA. Participo en las peliculas Chance of Habit (Elvis Presley) y  Red Sky at morning (Clair Bleon) entre otras.  Desde hace 10 años reside en el particular barrio de Tenderloin, San Francisco. Sus escritos aparecen en la Antologias Poéticas POEMS FROM THE LAND OF THE DEAD, an Anthology of Creative Writing and Visual Arts, en 5 MINUTES IN THE TENDERLOIN, an Anthology of Words and Art from the Tenderloin y en TRACKS, Leavenworth Street anthology, Central City Writers’ workshop. E-mail: Rennon@myway.com

Mysticism by O D Ludyeh     in no sound neither any light   in no space nor any time   in but all-awing all-writhing all-being   which manifest only as silence and stillness

Summer Scene’06 by Carlos Ramirez     kid artists mark up Fairmount School’s playground   With chalk  sticks, rainbow spectrum Hola Leonardo, Jesus,  Sandra   Earth,Mars Neptune, Pluto Building on stilts, wears red shoes   Hop scotch diagram sealed to the asphalt Jungle gym playhouse bright and new   Arena for rollicking shrieks,agitated sounds Teachers in turn attend to their work beat watch.         Carlos Ramirez Poeta del area de la Bahia de San Francisco....

On turk street by Charles Curtis Balckwell   So we ran up Turk Street, and so serious past 5th Avenue where the Ancient Aztec ghost roam Just before arriving with aspirins   Mental anxiety had become home, tension in my temples of worship   The ocean waved at us I could hear it sloshing for miles away, his trumpet to love became full of spite   The long bus ride down Geary street caused sequins to exit the city the same as Cousin Henry Over on Skid Row, where shopping carts stay greased and ready for travel   Being clean in anticipation of coins falling, we begged hard   Alone, an ex-boxer sent a query letter suggesting revenge, in the ring of course,   Now in the shadows of love We embrace   Coins falling from holes in my pockets   She left me weeping at the moon instead of our monful regrets of not enough money to sleep.

Third floor by Juan Carlos Vasquez     I Tie and Untie myself and count to three, it is incomplete, and an empty longing, full of symbols that mean nothing and I create heavenly memories that soon demand of me, cutting my time in half. A heavy sleep arrives before midnight and I wake up tired in the morning between visions, and no one answers me to start again as though it had a meaning, I wake up, and do things routinely done by those living, just a pulse with no name it looks like we are laid out there are sounds that frighten. While in the streets with my brothers, when in the shadows of the night, just looking at numbers I feel sick and hurt all over. Going up and going down as children play in a slide below there is death pushing and shoving, foaming at the mouth they all cheer below they are all gray, then purple, there is no sun. As I descend from the third floor, it begins my coming together to solid ground.   Tenderloin (San Francisco) by Juan Carlos Vasquez     Dead walking, nude crawling in a love parade, the return of the ambulances without roads, when I am close to a blissful high   I long a lot for caresses, to help me fall asleep it is night, six months have gone by between incenses over graves, and a celestial restlessness, visions of jupiter compacted into pipes. This face cannot be mine the face of Sunday at noon. If it wasn't noon and had I something to do these damn ambulance sirens would not torment me with their regrets. How do I recover with punches the street's quietness, how do I destroy with an axe the remembrances from my veins without diving in a tub to masturbate. there is a horrible smell of beer, so romantic yet so pathetic, There are ideas of escape, and lasting words. if I had a dog his barking would convince me but I have no dog, only nights find I joy in contempt, and instead of I protest everything induce me into a terrible and sorrowful laughter.     fotografia-arte digital: Juan Carlos Vasquez                         Juan Carlos Vásquez was born in Valencia, Venezuela  on December 20, 1972. He studied Publicity  and Customs Administration. As a narrator, Vasquez has published a short stories book entitled Pedazos de Familia (2000)published by Estival Editions Maracay-Venezuela. Vasquez other works were published in Ciclos Valencia Association for the Bipolar Affliction in Valencia, Spain, in the Poetic Anthologies  While Vivir Soñando (2004)  published by Poetic Studies Center of Madrid, Paseo en Versos (2005) published for passages in the roof Df Mexico, Hemiparesias  published by Viceralia Ediciones, Santiago de Chile (2006) Currently, Vásquez is finishing a book of poems entitled Sangre and a story book La Caida which deals with the contradictions which ends in the human experiential perspective. Vasquez has lived in St. Petersburg, Tampa, Miami, FL, and New York. Since 2002, he lives in San Francisco, CA.   ONLINE WORKS Vásquez has been a prominent contributor to the following leading Poetry sites:   Verso Que Viene Siglo XXI. El Rincon De La Poesia Y La Literatura. Othlo Zine. Almiar (Margen Cero) Notisur USA. Al Margen Net. Bordelines Writers. Mundo Cultural Hispano.   AWARDS & HONORABLE MENTIONS   Lauded International Writer (2005) by Notisur USA for Vásquez stories Ataques de Lucidez Y El Tejado (Desde la Perspectiva de un Gato). Recognitions in El Premio Nosside(2005) in  Calabria Italy.   ASSOCIATIONS Member El Hueco Cultural Association (2001) in Miami. Member Spanic Attack Cultural Organitation (2004) in New York.   http://jcvasquezny.tripod.com/