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.
Reached, not yet pubescence: a cloud says, moon was crazy, treading on a forbidden lake of frozen tears. Breaking fast unto death for releasing the doves in sky of hymns. The gametes were weary. Procreation will wait. Let the dark
I stand with a humble heart searching Seeking the name and the power There is in the glory of Jesus My Savior, my Father adoring Everything that is from you, Lord Jesus I believe and I trust you my Savior
Brambly winds has shaken the buds of your may And may be your coral is much more red And in the blue Mediterranean where she has lay The dreams of a crystalline streams by her bed Past her garden where