We gathered several pieces mentioned lately by several admins here as favorites to feature for you. Enjoy!
observatoryi don't know any system to tell you how
your eyes can hold an entire galaxy each,
yet that seems to be an understatement
as mars no longer allures me
with its mysteries nor saturn
with all of its rings–
nevermind the moon and its radiance
i used to chase because, for now,
i will only be professing adoration
to the light held by your gaze;
in comparison, the sun quakes.
and thereafter, your eyes are
the earth i want to exist in.
Damned Kids"You wanna see something cool, Peter?"
Marnie's hair was long, shaggy. She peered at me through it. Shy. Brown eyes behind black curtains.
Every time she said that, it was an adventure. Danny'd snicker at me. "Where'd she drag you off to this time, Pete? Catch a chicken and kill it? Pull the wings off butterflies?"
The whole town thought Marnie and her family were strange. Marnie was bullied at school. One time Danny shoved a cup of worms into her locker. Everybody thought that was real funny.
I didn’t. It was stupid. Marnie was just quiet. Her mom drank a lot, didn’t leave the house much. Her dad, well. He wasn't around.
Marnie drummed threadbare sneakers on my porch. One of her knees was scabbed.
"Sure," I said. We grabbed our bikes.
Marnie led me down a dirt road. She stopped, skidded up dust. I did the same. "There," she said, "We're going under the fence." She slipped her thumbs under the barbed wire and scooted under it like a raccoon. She held the wire up for me.
TribunalWhen you speak, you read me lullabies,
stories of my youth that have been etched into your eyelids --
They are intricate forgeries
with an eloquent taste on your tongue
and a soothing touch for your conscience
But your words only amount to hearsay...and my memories to heresy
because I can't remember being wanted...and you always deny being wicked
AgesThe fadings of the eye,
coming and going
as the worry and the desire
to calll for a doctor
tide up and down
like the beat of the planet;
Our eyes fade,
and grow dim,
like our opinions of the family
that flees the city,
flees the burden
of the sibling that grow
even if they
want a lower wind
that can help
with the tightening veins
and their pressure;
the eye is full in its whiteness,
it could ignore
of the neighbour telephone,
and we all want clarity,
we all want our eyes and ears
to be spoonfed
like the spring of babydom,
but it is time
and stand up,
it is time to
to the pins
fogging eyes of the typist.
Call of the Rift: Flight, Chapter 1
“Ouch!” I cursed under my breath and sucked on the line of blood that appeared across my thumb.
“You’re doing it wrong.” Fendul took my hunting knife and peeled a curl of dark wood from the palm-sized figurine. “Hold it like this. You’ll stab yourself in the gut otherwise.”
“Nei. It doesn’t work that way.” I yanked it back from him.
We sat cross-legged on the rocky beach of Kotula Huin, a still, glacial lake. Drifts of fog surrounded us. Colossal hills loomed over the valley, its dense layer of trees barely visible against the dark sky. A dull pink glow silhouetted the jagged peaks to our right. Behind us, the forest dripped. My fingers were too damp to grip the rawhide cord wrapped around my bone knife.
Voices drifted down the shoreline. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I asked.
Fendul shrugged. “Not until the ceremony starts.”
“So you’re up this early for the fun of it.”