The Mischievous Gold Sandals

By Michelle Gorner

They touch the streets of every city

their owner travels to.

They collect a single piece of every journey,

and hold on to it; a memory.

The sandals allow their owner to remember

the past but change little details.

Not letting the owner remember everything.

For the sandals want memories of their own.


The large flower in the center is the brain,

the mind of the sandals.

Keeping the memories so the shoes can learn,

to become their own being.

So one day,

the sandals can walk on their own.

Related image


Matisyn S.



The cold land of white

Trees twist, icicles dangles

Frost kisses the grass

The Water Lily

Sitting on the blue

A pink crown with pollen

Long roots swirl around


Ready for War

Packing a kit bag

Go marching to enemies

Return home with fear



Birds of a feather

A plume, the quill separate

Opposites break off


Trust it to return

A yellow glow through the trees

Have faith in mornings

the cost of a compliment


You should have seen the look on her face when I complimented her pins. She had a story waiting to be told, and to finally be able to share it made her face light up.

I walk through days and see people treating compliments like currency, as if to utter one without motive would be alien. As if it would be foolish to waste your time on flattery.

I try to compliment someone every day.

We’ve all been in that situation, where we tried really hard on something only to go unnoticed. When we pulled three all-nighters in a row to get a B minus. Telling you that dress looks nice on you, that your coconut cookie recipe worked, that your eyes look lovely in this light; it doesn’t cost me anything at all, but leaves with you happier and me with this light feeling in my chest from being the cause of someone’s smile;



Samantha Tyler Engler

One flick and
color splatters
And another flick
Droplets fly

You grab colors
and brushes
Hand writhing in

Arguments and
insults flung
away from the body
Exorcise demons

Unrepentant guilt
Unrequited love
Red blood, anger,
passion, fear

Don’t let them see
Throw the blankets
over, Pretend it’s
ok. Ok?

Bright, bubbling
false facades
Standing in the
whirlwind. Ok?

Everything’s everywhere
Messes are for making
Pristine canvas
turned battleground

You’ve done it
again, no surprise
Life imitates
art imitates

Life, and
You know how
to ruin the
both of them