It’s best not to think
about why;
it’s just as well believing

what we’re told.
This translates into nothing
we’ve been told

of critical thinking.
Yet the mind opens so much
as to even admit

Culture is not thought
but absorbed –

its weaknesses not only words
but innocence
wherein they’re learned.

The broken cycles they begin
crimp the tangents
of invention.

Featured Art: Womb, ink on paper, 50cm x 70cm
by Uta Feinstein

Image used with permission from the artist


    Matted weave of gridlocked avenues,
    mud of gripping alligator tires,
    extraterrestrial preyings;
            masks make them
            somewhat blind
    as droll rolls away with wasted time.
    Gods toss offerings to greedy creations;
fleur de lis hails
crown the multitude
    as lawns morph to gravy
    under merry uplifted arms.
            What is lent
            is cloudseed
    for reciprocity: a burgeoning levy
    behind each foremost thought.
Pompom chickens
and surly clowns pass by:
    extraterrestrials praying,
    their jewelry drooping
    in wind-dancing palms.

Featured art: Death of Childhood, by Tim Lane.

Image used with permission from the artist.