Fugitive
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The Fugitives:
Claire McGill
William Rockwood
Tyler Elkin
Billy Finn
Coyote Darling
Jordan Savera
Apollo Alexander
Jack Hamerstone
John Leslie Butchart

 
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CatchEye / Fall 2021

Girlfriends - by Billy Finn
Jagged Morning - by Claire McGill
Joy at the Smallest Affection - Tyler Elkin
Transplanting Trees - John Leslie Butchart

 

Girlfriends

by Billy Finn

Another one
Bites the dust—

I’ll tell you how

Wonderful

She is living

In my regrets now

Beyond reach:

Her name is Kelly

And she can spit

Margharita

Across the bar

Through the gap

In her front teeth.

That’s the thing

I liked most about her.

 

Before Kelly

There was Olivia

Believe it or not

She had olive skin

From Trinidad.

Velvet skin, velvet

Hands, velvet

Everything.

I fell asleep

Inside her

Velvet cocoon

And I’m afraid

I bored her

To death.

 

Now a new girl

A wild coyote

Who has already

Consumed me.

She has her teeth

In my neck

Furiously

Shaking my head

Fangs so deep

Blood so profuse

I’m painted red

Down to my toes

And loving

Every minute

Of mutilation.

 

I’m wrong, I know

To assume a girl

Exists somewhere

Out there

Who can whisk up

The flavor of sure love

As if desire could stay

Appetizing

Forever.

That’s foolish &

sadly romantic

But how does a man

Change the chemistry

That keeps him alive?

 

Will there be one

Who goes to the end with me?

One who conquers death

By living beyond

My expectations

By forgiving me

Holding fast

To her own ideas

Of what love is

With a well of life

So deep and fresh

I’ll never die of thirst

Or doubt.

 

A friend who happens

To be a woman, a girl

Who happens to be

A child of God.

Designed for more

Than words can say.

Because she and I 

Will know

Oceans and mountains

And cities where the best

Cafes hide, and movies

We watch together

In perfect silence.

Like doves 

we will find joy

Simply chasing

The future.

Jagged
Morning

by Claire McGill

I crawled out

Of my ciccada husk

Last night and danced

Away the darkness.

I boogied my butt off 

Swirling in the light.

Oh how sore I am

With happiness

To be free

From what I was

Yesterday.

READ MORE JORDAN
Joy at the Smallest Affection

I understand you’ll never understand

why you wallow in the mire of your self

for the love you need you do not seek

and the ice around your heart is deep.

 

Hear us barking now in the middle of the night?

 

Hear us snarling at the squirrels on television?

 

Poets and priests are man’s best friends

                           yet you treat us like dogs

 

Just for living truthfully.

 

There is no power, no light, only barking.

You can’t understand how we live

by instinct, how we know the way home.

Until you bury is in the backyard, we give

 

Like slaves, we howl at the moon

And curl on the stoops of churches.

 

Every dog senses man is doomed

feels sadness about your crimes

and joy at the smallest affection.

SAGE.jpg
by Tyler Elkin

Transplanting
Trees

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