I hope that one day this new generation which has access to the accumulated knowledge of almost every generation before will learn the pleasure of sitting outside on a warm summer’s night in near-perfect darkness and telling stories not in competition as they’ve been taught but to celebrate their own memories those things most likely to be lost when dawn catches fire and finds them gone
a poet from Seattle Washington USA. His poetry has appeared in print in publications such as Bellowing Ark, Point Nopoint, and most recently in Contraposition magazine. When not writing poetry he is a Human Resources professional, a repentant glutton, and a novelist specializing in the weird-fiction genre.
On wrong side of truth a prophecy burns. A conflict of your own choosing when more was less. Do you need some divine intervention in resolving human questions? The innocence of a sunflower will not blame the moon for dark
John Walker served his country in WWII It was something he felt obligated to do. In combat he risked his life Even while he was facing strife He wrote his family back at home While he was on another roam
Your genome was climbing down. I hate to count the steps. Feathers hurt sometimes after the end of flying. How far was the moment of dust? You were still swimming in saline water. A collective guilt will pay the price.