Images/Growth spurts
by Cheri Fry
incandescent do those eyes appear to me
casting shadows over that which was once sunny and bright...
your smile
bursts forth amongst the hills and valleys
of my soul
and the armour which was gently placed
over my heart
shatters
with the wake of my lovers tears...
look
see in the distance....
that which will save me from myself-
a code to honour
a way to live
the way of love and the way of compassion-
all that my lover has taught me.
Copyright 2005 by Cheri Fry.
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Madagascar
by Paul Murphy
Rangily annotated clear sunrise, inhabitants of an external shell
or Viennese suburb: elderly teachers of languages, makers of bread,
fermenters of beer, poets, novelists, Zealots or formalised formalists.
ranged like a morse code of dots and hyphens on an imaginary island
through the thumb nail telescope that originated from a limp mucus
a spoilt yoghurt of semen or inchoate globules of milk or bacteria.
The grammar, syntax of palm trees, unending beaches, each shark fin
an inverted question mark, a why, what or wherefore.
Copyright 2005 by Paul Murphy.
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Seeing Angels With The Inner Eye
by Richard Denner
The river runs both ways
innocent, pristine, untroubled
in a clean environment
I'm always making the same mistake
Looking closer I see sludge at my door
the road detours through acid rain
the bills of regret mount higher
I'm always making the same mistake
The river hugs the bank like a friend
I read love poems on the leaves
blessed by the air's deep prayer
I'm always making the same mistake
The stones simmer on the lake
night feels like a rotten tooth
I have to roll snake eyes a million times in a row
I'm always making the same mistake
Copyright 2005 by Richard Denner.
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Synesthesia
by Jason James Bearne
Is that a snow capped mountain I see resonating gently in the key of D?
Are those the holographs of sound the dolphins send
when they need to contact their beloved friends?
Ahhh...the visual sensation from the scent of a rose
causes my ears to start listening to my nose
and the taste of the smell that I see in your aura glows brilliant gold
like the sound of rushing water
The peach smelling sight of your purple sounding cry
feels like the taste of the sun in the twilight sky.
The soft pink aroma that accompanies your kiss
is the sound of the sign that reads 'THIS WAY TO BLISS'.
We've reached eidetic heaven. The union of the senses
where your taste buds start feeling smells and your ears grow lenses.
Your nose can now recognise the colour of the feeling
of the multi coloured noise that synesthesia is revealing.
I think you saw what I said.
I'm sure those pathways crossed over in your head.
You tasted my words and you felt what you heard.
Didn't we smell the shape of those trees and taste the colour of the breeze?
When we saw the feeling of the sound of peace,
we knew that from our senses we'd be released.
This collision of sensation,
this liberation from the condemnation
of the imperfection of human perception
is a natural process of correction.
The evolutionary introduction of a new dimension.
Copyright 2005 by Jason James Bearne.
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Shuttlecraft
by Raud A. Kennedy
He sucks on a smokeless cigarette in space
while looking back at the past, at Earth.
Unable to age or die, he wants to quit.
He yearns for his adolescence
before the cynicism of his maturity
smothered his life,
when his tears tasted
of salt.
Copyright 2005 by Raud A. Kennedy
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Letting Go
by Joneve McCormick
Out of the cave I called reality,
beyond the mere life of this body
the universe is disrobed.
There is no place to fall,
no desire to shrink.
All events are extraordinary,
though not all are social
in the changing light.
I see myself crawl out of mud,
hover over the sun
or walk down a street --
I can see everything I've done
pretending many roles.
I see myself
transform into a living cross
or a mummy wrapped in white
spiraling in space
if I choose,
as I've chosen before.
Beyond this mere life
I've traveled many roads
in the all-seeing eye
creating the world;
I was with Homer and Aesop,
in the water Christ walks on,
in future hurricanes and harvests.
Don't say it cannot be,
that these and other things
don't or didn't happen;
I know what I know.
And here is my test for truth --
the exact consideration,
and what works:
as I see in all directions
beyond this body's walls,
machinery of my bondage
in heaven and on earth
is vanishing.
Copyright 2005 by Joneve McCormick .
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Unsighted on the North Slope
by Janet Lynn Davis
I couldn't live on the arctic slope,
where night may not meet day
nor day night, for weeks at once.
I need clean separations of time,
certain moments set apart
and clear distinctions, sun then moon.
I need fingerprints of hours
to tell the one from the next,
and Hansel crumbs to mark the way.
Do tell me I'm not dying,
except as we all are, slowly.
Tell me I'll know the bliss of life.
I feel the stillness far too well.
I feel my will to breathe.
I feel my spirit over me.
I long for untamed beauty's zeal.
But I can't endure the midnight glow:
I have no eagle's perch.
Copyright 2005 by Janet Lynn Davis).
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Letter to the Editor: Cherie Staples (skyearth1@aol.com).