He’s got the whole world
in his hands
Artwork: “The Revolution Has Started” by Hugo Barros
http://society6.com/hugobarros/The-Revolution-has-Started-2_Print
He’s got the whole world
in his hands
Artwork: “The Revolution Has Started” by Hugo Barros
http://society6.com/hugobarros/The-Revolution-has-Started-2_Print
For the first time, I cradle him
he is dense and warm like a loaf of freshly baked bread
The smell of life
waiting
to take shape
envelops me in a puff
of
coral wind
as planets curl and twist
on the horizon
I show him where the soil turns
and softens in the rain
so that beauty may bloom
He too
was once a bud
waiting to come forth
in the tender light of June
“Show Him Every Star” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse
Artwork by Bene Rohlmann:
http://society6.com/pearpicker/p7vtM_Print
a glorious gust
of bellowing wind
swept me up
and blew me round
through honey-colored
dew and lace
above the tame and hollow town
the thrill of flight
was full
but brief
for dust that travels
with the breeze
must always settle in the ground
in cracking bricks
of dismal peace
-Angie
Artwork: “Flying High” by Vin Zzep:
http://society6.com/vincepezzaniti/flying-high-VVN_Print
Zombie Fiction is escapism that allows someone to become something more primal. Ironically though, I am not speaking of the zombies. It creates an environment of peril where murder is not only condoned, it is necessary. You are allowed to release your primal nature upon your fellow species without fear of moral or ethical judgement. Essentially, you are allowing the casual bystander to be a killing machine. No longer are they restrained by their sedentary lifestyles, now they are free to become survivors because, deep down, everyone thinks they can be badass if given the opportunity.
– Mitch
A resentful heart
splintered and stale
settles slowly
like the angry tides
that thrash before the radiant sun
then smack the shore
tired and defeated
but wiser than before
“Wise Old Sea” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse
Artwork by Sarah Cruce
http://www.society6.com/sarahcruce
swallowed ghosts
rise from his chest
and wander out into the spring
to haunt
to hunt
new eyes
new ears
that haven’t yet been spoiled by grief
– Angie
Artwork: Exhalation by Richard Vergez:
leafless birch trees stretch across the line
between the past
and the present.
Memories caught in between
slip through,
blossoming like moonflowers
in the cover of evening.
And there, below,
with time as my halo,
I bay
like a hound
mourning the day
“Night Howl” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse
Artwork by Sarah Cruce