Dear Em,I know the world seems overwhelming.
It is. It always has been. It was the first reason we learned to cry. Because of the terrible brightness we did not ask for. I’m not here to say it gets better. You already know how it feels to watch fire consume a mountain while the pinecones blossom and the trees grieve their lost by sprouting anew. It's rained for what feels like forever but a feeling of dryness persists. The world is thirsty, wanting. It's bigger and scarier and tougher than any individual. My heart is still full of that terrible brightness. It hurts to look at, but I stare into it like the sun. by Danny Canham Danny Canham's poem is the winner of our December Poetry Contest. Congratulations Danny!
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I Want to Believethis is just like that x-files episode you know, the one where Mulder has faith the one where Scully is skeptical? You know, the one where he asks her to do the autopsy, and she asks, "And what are you gonna do?" and he exits on an intriguing one-liner? It's kinda like the one where he almost finds his sister, Or where he sees the phenomena, chases the suspects, discovers clones while Scully waits for toxicology results from the lab back at headquarters and reports to Skinner about the validity of the work. It's clearly like the one where everything blurry is brought into focus by clicking, "ENHANCE" and you can finally identify the perpetrator. It's like the one where they're THIS CLOSE to exposing THE BIGGEST LIE OF ALL and the Cancer Man takes it away. It's exactly like the one where they're partners because of their differences, because they debunk each other's theories while they can't ignore the fact that they're both sexy as hell. Her reports remain inconclusive, and neither will ever have enough proof to give up their investigation. He says the truth is out there and you tell me, "It'll be okay." by Dee Dee Chapman Dee Dee Chapman's poem is an honorable mention in our December Poetry Contest. Congratulations Dee Dee! reflection on a winter’s evethings are quiet on the mountain tonight. cold, some snow. stillness almost without breath. hold that in your bones, words to remember. by Luther Allen Luther Allen's poem is an honorable mention in our December Poetry Contest. Congratulations! |