urban

degnan ronilo

david palmer

The I35 Median

Meadows of gold.
Patches of silver.
Oceans of shimmering blades.

The sun strikes.
The wind whips.
Creating fields of metallic waves.

Forces propelling the motions:
Billowing, bending, bowing, and dancing.
Gratifying, inspiring, and enhancing,
The human eye.

Giant

I do think I've grown a lot in these times of troubles. But the troubles and bad luck have gone on for far too long. It has been two years now, and I think emotionally I am now a giant. If life problems are like steroids for emotional growth, than I would probably have overdosed by now. There's only so much one person can take.

The Wind

Today I heard the wind whistle in my ears.

As I walked through a narrow brick passage,
the wind pucked its lips and blew downwards
as if trying to make music with an empty glass bottle.

And in its attempts, it was successful
because I heard that same, familiar, low pitched tone
that is sung from lips on empty glass bottles and narrow brick passages.

weed

luis robles