- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
The smell of the wet grass wakes all up first,
barely ahead of the chirp from the little bird out the window;
all in perfect time to wake all up from little soft deaths of sleep.
The blood-orange disk rises slowly but steadily
over the cracks and gorges on the face of the planet,
rising above grey chalk clouds, and pink-silver paint streaks.
Illumination on all that either is still in silent snoring slumber,
or crawling and moving, looking for fresh berries and leaves;
the coffee and eggs of all that is not human.
Still beating, the sound of your heartbeat, as it matches
second-for-second as the burning disk climbs higher,
catching and transforming chalk grey into powder sugar white.
Clear upper ocean pours through the heavens palette;
splotches of chalk, powder, blood, and rose;
all blend in and around the upper ocean and blood-orange burning disk;
heralding in clock-work cuckoo of rooster and chime.
May 'morrow be a hearty morning, a laborious day, a cessational evening and a little-death filled night, brought in by high and low contrasting disks of blood-orange light and silver-black shadow.