The Fall Ball, Love The Fan, School Programming

Economy of Action



The fir tree had no

new gown for the fall ball

but at November's close

it was apparent that

only she had clothes

(to NSMB)

(May all those who are facing hunger and eviction receive immediate


Love the fan makes spark the fire Love focused creates form from desire Love the finescreen turns firehose to mist Love the filter sees the fallen as a saint. Love the factory where miracles are fashioned. Love the furnace freezing hearts have sought. Love the fruit tree with gifts for all laden. Love the filings on the greatest magnet caught.



Taught in school to objectify animals, to refer to them as ‘it’ rather
than ‘he’ or ‘she’. I never thought of meat as a murdered animal’s dead
body pieces although disgusted by the row of test tubes full of
different colas and pops, each with a hotdog slowly rotting inside it,
and horrified by the biology teacher’s pithing a frog in front of us
(jamming a needle into his skull, a form of lobotomy). Like some mind
control interrogater, she gave a lower grade to anyone not willing to
eat chocolate covered ants o


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Novembers Past





November is just November,


It will always be that way,



It's ok.



October is over and that's a good thing,


I don't have to run away.





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Fog on a Mirror

I wasn't ready for the things that I learned,
of the breaking of hearts or how the world turns.
I quench all the fires with whiskey that burns
cause in your November arms I will never find warmth.

You weren't ready for a love that was true,
You were born for the sun, and my heart is the moon.
Colors surround you, I can just sing the blues.
My winter-born heart always plays out of tune.

Now I'm older and wiser, I can see crystal clear,
That I fell for your love, like you fell for my fear.
There's something we're lacking, like fog on a mirror,
Our messages written, soon disappear.

But life has it's way with every person I've met,
Like insects surrounded by a young child's net.
And I am imperfect, on this you can bet,
I only drink to remember, just how to forget.



By, Oskar N.
November 15, 2010

It is a time of cold,
A time of love,
A time of brown,

Where does the time lead you,
It is up?
Is it down?
November is a curious time,

Families get together,
While others drift apart,
Only time will tell,


Where does it end?
In time of joy?
In time of sorrow?

Birds stop chirping,
Animals start to hibernate,
And Humans?
Humans start to bundle up for the cold months ahead.

Christmas is right around the corner,
But first we have to deal with the joy of Thanksgiving.

And this is why November is a month happiness.

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