Death patiently files his nails
And smokes a casual cigarette
Grinning and eyeless
He says so calmly
"Catch you later
Brave little dreamer"

Despite such brittle certainty
Men and women build
Despite such small mortality
Every space is filled
In the midst of death's destruction
Men and women build again

Fear, like a cringing bowel
Exudes an acrid stench
And whimpers and whines
Simpers and cries
"Don't you dare
Don't you ever dare"

Despite this clinging dread
Some will need to dare
Despite the bursting head
Dreams insist on birth
In the midst of our stupidities
Something wondrous strives

                                    By Phil Roberts

Death does not shake me
Because I know how I'll die
It'll be brutal and painful
Not like a stray bullet or hit by a car
The cancer will **** me slowly
It will break down my body
Then **** off my soul
I know this will happen
Everytime I light the cause

Dahlias, little blue fence, the sweet breeze; long grass in the frontyard.
Kisses with intent lips, September; lemon-poppyseed cake.
The big moon.
Dogs howling, a scratch from a bramble on my wrist.
10pm and the rainfall.
9am and a rainbow arcs over our house which resembles a doll house.
Who is the antagonist in this mess of a story?
...
Burning love-notes in the kitchen,
The coffee tastes wrong, WE used to share it.
You take the puppy and leave only flower-petals in the sink as proof you were ever here.
Cigarettes and nightwalks, dawn; waking in the backseat of my car and hangovers hanging over.
Goodbye dahlias and house with little blue fence,
Bye comfort.
The world is a newborn.
I am at my beginning too and I take a breath....

The corset of night loosens
exposing the flesh of light
Silver bells dangle from the sky
winter tidings
Dreams uplifting the soul

Dark skies
Lull the stars to bloom
A waterfall
Upon fallow ground
Like shimmering rain

One by one
I shoot them down
Gather them
Like seashells
Hear your voice echo

In every one
Clasp the sound
In my lungs
I breathe you
A rhapsody of life

Each breath reflecting
Each beat of my heart
I pull them closer
Like dreams in the mind
Internalize your soul

And burn with love
A yearn to be the only sky
That holds you
The only earth
To embrace your flame
Your Home

Strange, the place you've taken us,
Stranger, features once familiar turned vague
Darkness behind eyes once effervescent
Well-meaning lies
To cover up the scent of drowning

You're falling,
And it's not with love.
It's with fear, and chains,
Suffocation and denial.
Not only are you sinking,
A hole in your hull the size of your need for a bottle,
You refuse rescue.

Like sitting on the edge of a wishing well,
The fountain water sprinkling my face,
And there you are,
The penny flipping end over end
About to hit rock bottom.

And no matter how I try,
You keep slipping through my fingers.

We like to say that stillness comes with night
That on hot summer evenings we can hear God breathe
But I disagree.

Summer nights, beautiful as they come,
Are filled with crickets, cicadas, birds of prey, and the sound of growing
They smell of burnt marshmallows and laughter
Bursting with life,
Loud and exuberant.
No, summer nights are not still.

It is in winter,
When death and slumber rule the woods,
Where even our breath is muffled by the cold,
Frozen into puffs of clouds.
The night does not sing as summer,
Cicadas and crickets and owls and coyotes
Calling out in the heat.
No.
Silence basks in moonlight on a bed of leaves
That tucked the summer away in their fall.

It is here that we find the still in the night
The quiet so deep we must look inward for sound
Heartbeats and whispers of breath,
Memories filling our inner ear,
Unable to keep the quiet.
But when calmed,
When frozen still by the cold,
You can hear it,
The throbbing in the dirt,
The heartbeat of the earth,
The subtle zephyrs through naked trees
The breath of gods.

Here,
We find the still in the night.