By Lesley-Anne Evans

My Daily Bread

I donned my apron,

floured the pan,

January 8, 2007

Your gentle guidance has immeasurably influenced

all that I have done, all that I do, and all that I will ever do.

I find myself inside this chrysalis

             struggling against these chords

            I’ve spun around me

By Joshua Roscoe

I search without a guide
For the lost treasure known as peace
I wander from home to hotel as I travel
My endless Journey

I find some wayside vendor
A peddler of wares not fulfilling
Yet I buy them with the illusion of happiness

Child’s Thoughts
I am too young to know this
My bed is a floor
I eat whatever I can find
My face stays dirty
My clothes stay soiled
Nothing is shielded from entering my mind
I see everything but love
My life is over before it starts
Sad story
Who cares?
Nobody

Even as I wait I wonder

Hopes, dreams, and fears all equally thrown to the realm asunder

The mountains that burst are contained

While the waves that destroy are made calm

By Micah Wisdom

Blindness

She supplies my wants
She fulfills my desires
She leaves me satisfied for a moment
She leaves me empty forever after
She’s appealing on the outside
I’m afraid to look any deeper
Because I know that she is full of darkness
I’m aware this will come to nothing good
But that doesn’t stop me
Temporary pleasure in exchange for a life of pain
Such a terrible deal
Why do I make it again and again?

Reviewed by Warren Hershberger and Ibid
April 3, 2006

Time has taught you
how much inspiration
your vices brought you,
what imagination
can owe temptation
yielded to,
that many a fine
expressive line
would not have existed,
had you resisted:
as a poet, you
know this is true,
and though in Kirk
you sometimes pray
to feel contrite,
it doesn’t work.
Felix Culpa, you say:
perhaps you’re right.