meadofpoetry

Two roads diverge in a wood. Can't say I didn't care for either, but neither did they reach out to greet me. Two roads diverge in a wood. And I — I chose instead to make my own, snaking through the willow trees, splashing past the stream, and nothing's ever seemed so perfect. So alive. Each leaf waved and called my name. I've never ever heard anything so beautiful. Birdsongs like lullabies and sunshine like earth's own embrace. Sometimes I'd find the two roads again, but I — I was happy to keep to mine. The rivers carried me, cleaned me when I wore out, the moonlight guarded my dreams, but most of all my wanderings brought me wings. Two roads diverge in a wood, but I leave no footprints. Two roads diverge in a wood, but every wood has a sky like diamonds calling me home. I've forgotten the taste of pain, once like fruit and friendship and it never goes away. But still I've forgotten. I've swallowed it whole, so what else is there? There are no roads among the stars, no trees to block

Our last night on Earth was a quiet one: dinner, champagne, a movie. I had gotten the kids souvenirs from my last trip, toy blocks that glowed in the darkness surrounding the 46-inch plasma playing WALL-E. The kids' favorite. "Why champagne?" my wife asked, sipping from her glass. "Big promotion again?" I wanted to tell her everything, make her understand why I had done what I had done. I had to protect my family. My stomach twisted when the toy blocks began to float. I looked to the bay windows as the kids scrambled to reclaim their gifts. My wife went to help them, champagne abandoned as she chased the children chasing their toys. None of them noticed the spaceship arriving on the balcony. I opened the balcony doors, wind and noise disrupting the pursuit momentarily before the blocks zoomed aboard the awaiting craft. My wife wasn't quick enough; the kids ran inside after them. She followed, standing in the mouth of the ship calling for our children. I pushed her inside. They

the dagger in my chest is gold lined with bloodstone and diamonds twisting, you fucked up how dare you be flawed the blade is jagged with expectation I hate gold — give me antique silver with serpentine and opals if I could choose how I die may it be by another hand than mine

SCENE 1. INTRO MUSIC SNIPPET INTERVIEWER: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to our coverage on what is rapidly becoming known as the Carrie Case. We are pleased to announce that the four individuals involved in the police questioning have elected to come to us to tell us their story, a story they believe is not appropriately understood by the press. So sit back, turn up your radios, and let’s try to figure this one out before the police can. SHUFFLING OF PAPERS INTERVIEWER (CONT): For anyone listening who isn’t up to speed, the hot topic is a recently uncovered murder case. Two weeks ago, police were notified by a local landlord—who has kept his name off the record—that an apartment he let was found to have human blood underneath the living room wallpaper, enough human blood to suggest the person in question did not survive the blood drain. He is placing blame on four former tenants who put up the wallpaper just before they vacated the property. The unsolved murder case from

The final transmission from Earth's failed Martian Colony, 2088. INT. MARTERRAN SPACE STATION - NIGHT Sounds of screaming and station destruction beneath a black screen. A klaxon alarm drowns out the chaos. A thump. Heavy breathing. Female groaning. HERNANDEZ (breathless): Activate digital panel. A digital screen blinks to life. Various symbols indicate officer name, time and date, location, and station vitals. Everything's in overload. An explosion rocks the image. The image of Hernandez collapses from view, then returns. HERNANDEZ: Shit. Okay. Sounds of station destruction continue in the background. HERNANDEZ: This is Dr. Hernandez. All comm systems are down. There's been an explosion in the lower levels and we can't reach Earth. Another explosion. HERNANDEZ: Oxygen is leaking out from the station. We're breaking apart. One more tear and we'll fall into the planet. Hurried footsteps. Hernandez looks off-screen to address newcomer. COMMANDER: Dr. Hernandez, the life boat's

wake up dreams put the camera down photographs take notes poetry in the margins get a master's degree in creative writing get a job artist settle down vagabond what is this mess it's art I think it's out of focus focus! stop yelling stop getting lost get lost