A spider crawling down my wall
Met me crawling up

                                 By Phil Roberts

I am so tired
And it's the kind of tiredness
That no amount of sleep or rest
Can ever cure or ease
World weary is what I am

All my life
For as long as I can remember
I've been fighting for or against
Something
Anything
I only knew the fight

Bodies become battered and broken
And minds become anxious and paranoid
But both of these can be fixed
However
When a soul becomes worn and diminished
Medication does not help

                                            By Phil Roberts

chasing down those clouds
in penetrating light
rode to the bridge

sun had set
pink and gold patterns
on the river

The man at the water plant
leaning on the railing
glanced down the river.

above the silhouetted hills
below the salmon gilded clouds
a patch of blue

no longer blue
but the color of the turquiose ring
on my bike tires