Happy ChildThe car bucked as it ripped past the seams of a forgotten strip of interstate, sailing down Highway 95 in the early A.M. Each seam, with its "kachuka" sound felt as if the stale Georgia heat and wet earth couldn't stand it any longer. The car sailed, rather than hurtled, just the way that only a white 1976 Chevy Impala could. The bench seat, cherry red vinyl, held two passengers in this early morning drive.His passenger was a bound woman, silent and still. The dashboard rolled cajoling songs from crackling speakers that inspired the driver to sing. Her body bounced with the car and she started to roll face first against the driver. He righted her with his elbow, making sure the plastic black bag which was tightly bound around and her neck, hadn't worked itself free.You wouldn't be tryin' to escape salvation, would ya?" he asked with a smile broad enough to show his broken and discolored teeth.He had found her differently than all the others he had saved and rescued; each
Tragic HumansWhat ere he deigned to craft corporealWe take in stride for our own endRaise our worth above its one true measureAnd make our image into nonmoral zeal.Our eyes do not know the worth of humanNor animal or plant, in the breeze lowsHumility and strength be our sure goalFor how can we say we know what we can?Our fate may be sealed like species beforeAnd we too may find our way through deathExtinction happens and tragedy strikesWhat would you trade human survival for?
Spiritual ChutneyMovement 1The air was on fire. That's how it seemed as the flame hovered almost a half inch above the incense she was trying to light. It seemed so hard... All this meditation and burning expensive incense that was made in the Nepalese/Tibetan tradition for most Buddhism temples seemed frivolous.She carefully rolled her wish around the spoke, taking care to not bind or crinkle the paper too badly while still trying to get it tight around the center spoke. She lolled the cold patina metal in her hand mulling over her desires, her wishes, her sad and almost trite, pathetic life.The incense went out, as she silently cursed the almost covered burner. How could incense burn if it didn't have enough air? It was a poorly designed burner. But it reminded her of a brass votive her mother kept in the living room near the antique lamp that she's still to this day concerned about knocking over. Some things just seem meant to be.She pondered over this novel idea as she tried to relight the char