By: Jim Bates Bright full moon settingShining through snow covered pinesLighting thoughts of joy. Cold blue winter skySun reflects off icy snowMagic light dancing. Cold north wind blowingPine tree’s thick branches bendingBirds huddle for warmth. Frozen winter dayIce houses dotting…
By: Bill Gruber Before it downsized to Twitter, blogofdeath.com was the go-to place to find obituaries for (their words) “famous, infamous and interesting unknowns,” which was where I first read about the life and times of the late Norbert Arnold…
By: Dianne Reeves Angel John Biscello’s No One Dreams in Color is one of those rare novels that feels less like a book you read than a dreamscape you wander through. From its opening pages, it casts a quiet, hypnotic spell —…
By: Samo Kreutz outside the cloud rehearsesa languageolder than asphalt whispers the sighs of housesand the breaths of streetcars reminding methat absence is only a breeze I carry in my ears river patienceflows with the river and itspolished stonessoftened into…
By: Eugen Oniscu From the stopped train, people of all kinds stepped down, scattering along the streets that stretched beside the station. Among the last to descend was a man moving with the aid of two crutches. He seemed utterly…
By: Goutam Roy Disquiet seas churn—turbulent ripples shimmer,dazzled with foam,a transient resilience,like a comet’s briefappearance in the sky. Within the seething heart,echoes of lightrise from within,from the gut’s core,layering themselves,yearning to becomeone with the ripplesof the sea—to submerge. In the…
By: James Aitchison Sometimes, when you feelthe quieting, do you seekits source?The eternal spirit in each manrequires the air and lightof goodness.With every redirection of your life,you have a witness.In the silence, listen.There is great art in living,for each day…
By: James Aitchison Live not on the surface.Rest within the self,in the fastness of the heartfind answers.Mortality is transient,cycles of good and evilrepeated.With thoughts andperspectives balanced,breathe free.Abandon the cloak ofearthly being.Follow the elevated pathwhich few havewalked before.
By: Bruce Levine Here’s to the fewWho catapulted out ofThe miasma of mediocritySeeking renownNot in the pond made for a goldfishBut striving for the brass ringPlaying with the big boysIn the big sandboxNever losing sight of the goalAs they rise…
By Bruce Levine In many ways this has been an odd year for me. Not odd in that I’ve subbed at DHS almost full time – but full time when I covered, long term, for a Social Studies teacher out…