Your heart is full of fire
Coal black but gentle as the moon
Your sun is fierce and full of grace
Are you mad at the way
The earth revolves around them?
Or is your soul yearning
For the stars that give life
To the endless summers?

I recognize
this ground
laced with stones
and poisoned barbs
hike barefoot here
unafraid

a barren desert
feels like home
when there is nothing
to be lost or gained

I have been here
many times before
stripped down naked
in the noonday sun
watching vultures
wheel and dive

as I dangle
twist and spin
ever the enabler
enabling

Science is
the magic
of our age.

I want
the old world
back.

Having opened one door
He always found another
Interesting one

                           By Phil Roberts

Stillness
A cocoon of mundanity
Built on concrete
And
The fossils of butterflies past

Driven by Benjamin
The cycle goes
Fermented hopes and dreams
Within a membrane of glass

But on the ground
Is where you'll see
All caterpillars may have the chance
To fly free

"Hmm..."



"What is it?"



"Ya know those sweethearts?"

"Those what?"
"You know, those little candies you can get around valentines that'll have like 'I love you' or 'be mine' and stuff on them."
"Yeah...What about 'em?"





"Well, sometimes they don't have anything on them. They're just like a forgotten wordless misprint..."






The leaves were crunching against our feet. Our beautiful feet. I was cold and I knew exactly what I was saying. I smoothed my hair and with a slow bright toned whisper, I said,
"...the misprints are always the best..."