sometime it is
in the act of writing
that we create the sense
of what we want to say

as if the process of articulation
    when we are fishing for the proper words
is generating meaning
inventing itself in its own genesis

leaving the poet amazed

sometimes even the readers

Anna Christina
You lied  You lied  You Madam
The fine is time served

handheld all-purpose
device how nice to make life
an easy delight

agony builds, weak
languishing dubious eels
languishing, dryly

Beyond the rolling bones
Of memory's myths
And the ancient sounds of laughter and tears
Something mystical exists
Something deeper than marrow
The seeds of our ancestor's dreams and fears
And at a level beyond our knowing
It still rules our actions
And leads us to our fates

                                             By Phil Roberts

unborn deceitful
misers tumble, men burn, peach
sniggering soaked lash

vain cow hesitates
despondent caterpillars
shivering soaked bright

Beware the baker
for his battery is a
sweet death to follow

**** 'em then forget them
That's our motto
Three today, more tomorrow

implacable tall
old azalea screaming
ardently floating