ADivineUnicorn

     My alarm clock was buzzing loudly and the ceiling fan sent down tendrils of air that swept across my face like light fingertips. Opening my eyes, they strained to focus on the fan, framed by the edges of the stucco ceiling. Groaning like an old man, I crawled out of bed, threw on my jeans that were at the foot of the bed and dug through my hamper by the closet for the cleanest smelling shirt. Pulling the yellow shirt over my face the silhouette of the silk screened "Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers" logo on the front scratched against my nose. Shambling down the narrow peach hall towards the kitchen, I ran the tip o

In the midst of Paradise waters Alone in the seldom ocean waves Lies the small Island of Doubt From this distance all seems insignificant The waters showing youth and perfection Pacifistic waves that massage the morale But the island shines with wisdom A closer look; on the shoreline The sands appear insecure Sinking and shifting once touched The shells and stones hiding their faces Light patches of grass that stray with shyness The waters trying to restate the status Of the depressed beaches of gold. Past the beaches are the unsturdy bungallos Made with unshure hands and crooked perspective The roofs shoddy and weathertorn F

Pearl showers of light Pour down and douse A dry body vacant in height Soaking in nobody's house The stiff sheets of mist Angle and stab the shadows Soft edges where they're fixed Blinding out lamenting odes The hard dripping "water" Hold the body down still Forcing synthetic sun's daughter Down his throat in order to kill

The glare of glasses Blind out dimensions Burning nothingness Empty space that's blank Synthetic gravel grinds The ears that hear other Unique sounds committed To that emptiness of mind The memories that aren't Better left forgotten Better left learnt Neither shall occur The grave stone remains Blank and empty Of words and meaning yet All the imperfections represent

Delayed Revelation By: Bill Henry Fleenor The thoughts were causing a calamity in my mind. The way they were dashing under, over, in between and mixing with each other was enough to make any surrealist create another monstrosity. I wasn't about to oddle the magnificence of the chaos. I had important things to be pondering on this perfectly cool overcast Tuesday. The fact that such beautiful days are wasted on such drab circumstances is enough to depress any person. Not to self hatred, but enough to make one see the glory of relaxation. When I realized that I wasn't outside walking on a glorious day like this brought me back to that concret