Why did you choke on your free lightness? Why choose the great big burdens Over being merry, blithesome at sea? Letting the great boulders that crushed Your spine be oblivious to your Escape in the first place Would have been the ultimate melon meat. Refreshing, pleasant, taste-catching, and soft At…

We knew it was a parched mud hole. We knew the ants and worms do, like birds, roost. We knew the hole barely could shoulder even a chiffoned soul. Let alone make hospitality to his arms and legs Another goal to boost. Yet We did swivel in anyhow. We needed any space to hide right now. From the thunder that never would be or had been. Cobble out necessity from the gratuitous; Necessity from fear’s trickery,

Sitting over there, The crate wants my chance To be more than a quick glance. Like an ingrate does, I don’t savor aliveness; Just mope on what was Til what is has run past me. The crate is a box Meant for storing other things, Yet I cannot tell What belongs outside of it.

Even a giant, browning, crinkled map tells of greater bliss Than its holder, who chest-heavingly glances at his pocket knife called Swiss. His head thumping to the rhythm of isolatedly crowded forest trees. His rolled backpack, to which his realization snaps, has grown so heavy he stoops to his knees. …

Pglurp, doosh, pglurp, doosh Dockside aquamarine water, luminescent in the sun, impossibly split in two. A fisherperson adjusted her shoe. Casting her fishing hook, the once displaced woman eyed her beagle, a canine gaily panting. “It was all good theater, wasn’t it, puppy?” During those eon months of peacetime’s eclipse…

Just because they are called “micro” plastics does not mean they aren’t causing “macro”-sized problems. — Background This week has been depressing in terms of environmental news. First, a study announces that 99% of people on this Earth inhale and exhale polluted air regularly! Next, another study reports the first case of living humans testing positive for something in their lungs. …

December 26th — 27th 2021: The ambiance was aglow with cheerfully creamy tartness, punctuated by Christmas crystal bell chimes and carols playing from a portable radio. I felt my optimism lifting itself out of heavy boulders of hopelessness. In fact, my optimism was high to the point that I set…

Missing Piece of the Puzzle? I visit the narratives and essays of some of Medium’s authors each day. In the process, I observe a uniting thread in many of their stories. A trend regardless of each articles’ quantity of claps and comments or the writers’ followers. One variable they all have is consistency in publishing…