What I Believe

by Michael Blumenthal

I believe there is no justice,

but that cottongrass and bunchberry

grow on the mountain.

I believe that a scorpion's sting

will kill a man,

but that his wife will remarry.

I believe that, the older we get,

the weaker the body,

but the stronger the soul.

I believe that if you roll over at night

in an empty bed,

the air consoles you.

I believe that no one is spared

the darkness,

and no one gets all of it.

I believe we all drown eventually

in a sea of our making,

but that the land belongs to someone else.

I believe in destiny.

And I believe in free will.

I believe that, when all

the clocks break,

time goes on without them.

And I believe that whatever

pulls us under,

will do so gently,

so as not to disturb anyone,

so as not to interfere

with what we believe in.

Fog

by Carl Sandburg

The fog comes

on little cat feet.

It sits looking

over harbor and city

on silent haunches

and then moves on.

Sunset

by L.L. Barkat

posted by the author here.

This is the golden hour,

when I can play out my life

in hot pink,

purple,

cherry red,

and instead of giving me

that look, you will

love me for it, ache

for tomorrow, ask me

to do it all over

again.