Ananya Chatterjee . Untitled

I have kept my darkness 

to myself — Says who, says who ?

I have hugged a tree 

on the saddest of nights

and felt my wetness 

drench her leaves

I have smelt the earth 

on the skin of her roots

and breathed the solaces 

from her boughs

Her blossoms have crept 

into my watertight chest

and guided me gently

back to light .

Ananya Chatterjee


Steven Curtis Lance . Ending Up

 { for Marisol and Bowser }


No collars and no ties

Nothing binding us

No dollars but no lies

Nothing blinding us

So never mind the fuss .


A sensitive snout

Or two out and about

As three of no doubt

Of one sensitive mind .


Two old dogs and I

Amid a midnight sky

Follow our noses

To desert primroses

Whenever we find

Them opening their eyes .


Out at this late hour

With fate reminding us

We two old dogs and

One old man understand

Us three of a kind .


Transcending like we do

Soon the sun will rise

Through a lot but not through

Not yet anyway ,


Ending up at our

Hi-Desert hideaway .

Steven Curtis Lance


Dru Micn . I Watched A Leaf Fall


I watched a leaf fall.

No. I watched a leaf dance

to the music of gravity

watched it pirouette

by itself to the ground

a spot of color among the rest now

it’s moment of excellence spun

a brief moment on the infinite

grand stage of air

before coming to rest

at the variegated trunk of the proscenium.


One of millions to put on a brightly

colored frock and linger with the chorus

line supporting cooling murmurs of the sun

among the branches, still twinkling

verdant harmonies until thinning notes

drift across stretched measures

and the next is one it is not in


it has detached, ran off to join the growing

patch work show beneath the level of

harmonic shadows, gone to join its peers

for a regular check and a slow graying

into a collage without edges

slowly embraced by dark puddled mud.


Returned to it’s roots, with its contemporaries

to slowly sink beyond the performance

where I watched it fall.


Where I watch it dance .


Dru Micn

Tom Higgins . A Thought On Thinking


Walking along the path least trod,
I thought of why men need a god,
I thought of what it is to be,
I pondered on what it is that’s me.
Then I thought, as think I must,
That I am as important as a speck of dust
Because within such dust we find
Structures that the average mind
Cannot begin to understand

Which brings me back to the matter in hand,
Of why exactly sentient life came to be
Within this insignificant speck called me.
But then again I thought some more
About what I am here for
I thought about the “what” it is inside
This structure in which “the me” doth abide.

I thought about the billions of bacterium
That outnumber my body cells a hundred to one,
And then I thought of how natural chance
Taught us how to sing and dance,
And write and play music, and understand
That none of this was ever planned
And that pure chance and accident
Brought us to where we were, before we went.


Tom Higgins 

Kim Oliver . This Night


Painful aching deep inside
Fearfulness where hope resides.
Inability to connect created-
Choices to ignore;
Yet deep within the ocean 
The heart though blue as once portrayed
Still beats with Hope.

Fear begins the swell of the wave;
Faith crashes it on the shore.
He who calms the storm within and without 
Will determine what lands upon the sand-

Be it detritus or treasures
Love will ever remain.

KDO- 31013


Kim Oliver