I’ll never understand why, but they actually are excited to see you, to show you their tux and brag on their date, celebrate the football team, their decisive win against inertia and invisible forces. The usual suspects steer clear of the dance floor, huddle in spectacled clusters of awkward fun, laughing at the others, their…

 that ran  from the bottom  of his ear to the bottom of his neck.   he had  white hair  and a white beard  and  was drunk  more often than not.   the  smartest  thing he was  known to say was  when he told little Billy Kramer   that  if he ever  got in a fight…

When I think of kites, flying high over me, I wonder, is there  joy hovering above looking down.  View my tangled threads, errant paths, mistakes. Picture is drawn with heavy black lines. Color inside, do not scribble, use colors assigned. I gaze outside into a magical field,  filled with teal options, emerald wishes, aqua dreams, …

Summer’s pears hang low enough, I reach them from my seat. A book I love is close enough to relish with delight. I start to cut those juicy pears to eat while I am reading. But words distract me from my task. Pears brown before I taste them.   触手可及 夏日的梨子挂得足够低， 我从座位上够到它们。 我喜欢的一本书离我足够近， 我可以尽情享受。 我开始切开那些多汁的梨子，…

 It sounds easy when you talk about it,  his weariness stretches the fields to greater emptiness,  Toward life, he carries the same apology a shooting star owes the sky,   and the same passion as an actor whose face is painted for the stage.   He lies beneath a tree that lets wind seep through…

Years may come, and for some, they go, and where they carry us heaven only knows Some use them wisely, others plainly don’t. And go wandering lost, wearily, blearily Where the lamb Was loath to Go’nt. Copyright 2026 Richard Spisak, Information Sculptor. Editor’s Note: the .url below is Rick’s work, where he works with many…

I write these wordsto resist rebound anxiety.  Yesterday, a dearest one risked their life;I am shakenlike leaves in the wind.  Amplifying everything, making my beloved one angry.  But what fault is it of mine, if, even thanks to her,I move towards life?  Copyright 2026 Marco Farinelli

Whatever opens up a new vein remains the best recourse to painting in the scene. De rigueur red and asphalt shingles, but sparing with the various greens and nice touch the saw-toothed yellow sun. We’re making it here with the rabbits and the chickens and Miss Daisy, the cow. I’m imagining carrots and lettuces and…

The corn is high Where the wind bends time And dreams run On broken promises And the dripping sun  In the short pastures And back fields Hides behind the tall grass  Out where the marsh Grows deep And the heat dips Into another year And tensions rise As bullets fly And shooting stars Fade Into…