When The Great Bard wrote his epic plays
America was the new frontier
A widening world of wonder.
But now we look with eagle-eyed telescopes
Out into the depths of space
Beyond the beyond
Back through countless miles and aeons
To Thirteen point eight billion years ago
When our universe appeared.

Send your minds-eye through swirling sandstorm fogs,
Each grain a galaxy
Each galaxy a beach
Of stars.

Most stars are circled
By endless varieties
Of worlds.
There must be Earths out there,
Again too many to number
Making our own a single speck
In that endless night.

The saddest thing, of course,
Is that all these worlds are out of reach,
Unless we find a wormhole
Or that fiction “Star Trek” comes to pass.

Without some warp drive
We are marooned on this island
We call Earth.
Yet we can look
And think:
Imagine what it’s like out there
On sister Earths
In jungles,
Up mountains
And on sky-blue seas.

Paul Butters

Wishing for breakfast
before ascending
on high pass road..
Need for nourishing
alertness on winding curves..
The restaurant appeared
in a sudden way..
Anticipating
happiness in satiation..
Then during breakfast
a realization
of happiness fulfilled
but only for this moment..
Temporary
not to be held
but a portion and pointing
to that happiness
Permanent
I am...

When I dream this desert turns green, blooms
clouds race where mountain lions loom
ash gray, the cool of blue rain comes
a redolent wind of desert sea
rushing waves, sand blown
sculpted saguaro forests
pale flowered yellow
drinking every drop
now this eve we drink
now before another dawn
of the mad thirsty sun

My lips are cracked leather
lizard dry, my breath melts into mirage
beetles emerge from dark caves
in flashes of iridescence, crawling
their tiny tracks, surreal sand paintings
art for cactus wren, hunting

Here, beyond yet another
sparkling diamond mound
lies a wild sea of the sailing ships, I've found

Shivering boughs of trees
Painted invisible strokes
On the warm atmosphere
Of our midnight secrecy.

Black mountains of moon
Melted on blanched sky
To deepen the colours of
Cupid's clever-conspiracy.

Having just climbed
      through ages
up what seemed an endless flight
of narrow winding gothic spiral stairs
I step out
right into the wind's brute force
     instinctively
my arms grasp for a hold
    fearful lest I blend suddenly
    with the white horses
    and the fields of the Camargue
    far down below

Wedged safely
in a nook of stone
a hefty tourist
leans out wide between the walls
toward the setting sun

her summer skirt is blown waisthigh
revealing
unexpectedly delicate lace
above sturdy thighs

her body opens
to the strong soft touch
of the Mistral

A little later
she walks past me
clothes gathered
level gaze calm  
and self-assured

and leaves me wondering
whether the mighty abbot
    on his solitary tower
and his exclusive brotherhood of men
had ever understood
the wind that blew
    and still blows
through two feet of stone
  like they were silk
and thrills a woman
to her bone

      * * *
                                                              ­                        © Walter W. Hoelbling

That moment
     when you look into his eyes
  You see past the scars
          the hurts, the pains
      And all the lies
           through to their core
  feeling and knowing a love
         stronger
    than you've ever felt before
  finally realizing
        You found the one
you've been searching your whole life for
        blessed with their presence
   And doomed to love them forever
as they are the reason for your existence

            That moment
    in which you can feel
        your life change forever
  that you've finally reached
              the end
      of a long, tiring endeavor

     That moment
  does not hit everyone
            the same
but if you miss that chance
    it could mean a life filled with
           endless pain