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The humble beginning of the fire  moves my bones as I dance, with the wind of the East- knitting it's fingers through me as we sway.  Now I see,  baby you needn't do it for me. I shine brighter then what they can tolerate to see!  The Western sun shines over the poles as I look through my fingers and feed the sea with the tears that tumble down - burning from the wind  Joana Written on one those afternoons, May 2023

The warm kiss of the not yet ripe sun, dances and fights with the wind  for the royalties over my skin. The glittering light blends with the sky over my tight. I am a daughter with a millennia gone in arguments over who's lost and who's won. When every solder has failed to taste this acid vail  what's the point of standing victorious over a grave? with flowers from a valley, no man has ever claimed.  Joana Written on one of those afternoons you feel 15 even thought you're about to turn 20, May 2023

  October flowers make you smell of spring a gentle thought -brings the backyard swing. A forehead kiss trapped in a blink, your lips are no longer pink, turned blue in a war.  We don't fight for love anymore. Bloody eyes over charcoal-colored sheets- there is more to this ancient ache that the eye meets Reach through me-  the armor of ribcage, my eyes, the bruises on my knee.  Be, be, be Joana Written in my grandmother's garden, march 2023 

From the miserable rises by David Life keeps surprising me with how the most amazing things can come from awful situations how the most beautiful flowers grow on desolate lands and the kindest of people rise from the worst of circumstance how the first trees grow after a wildfire rising from the ashes of their parents and instead of weeping at their loss grow to stand as proud as them when they break through ash and dust to see the sun their fathers loved and taste the rain their mothers lost and grow to stand and rise above 'cause keeping on is all they've got when even in the depths of hell a lover finds a simple smile and as a small an act as a helping hand can you help you stay afloat a while For the world has beauty in its loss and death is always somethings birth because I know the Gods have hearts when right after the sun has set  the entire sky is painted bright with stars

Frost by David a creeping ice lays over land frozen, silent, sacred glassy spiders webs and glittering leaves a holy land of snow and all of it for me inside of hearts to fight the cold a crackling dancing flame and man must hold each other close to fight the stinging pain and once inside the outer world has fondness in its eyes as freezing winds and colder snow are flying, passing by so we have time to be so old this dying time of year to let go of the things of past that we once held so dear and then emerge with flowering glow with sun and heat galore to go through life to grow and fight to be alive once more a creeping ice weeps over land  flowing, springing, sacred  Dripping spider’s webs  are now alive, unseen And leaves that bask beneath the sun Are all as green as me

 The warm wind blew – he left . Left me standing in a cemetery in a wedding dress The flowers are now blooming but you can still the blood stains- from the sculptures he made me crave  "Here lays the Virgin Mary" Told the dove to the empty graves. as I stood there, in my mother's wedding dress Joana Written on a melodramatic afternoon by the river, April 2021

 When god roots himself in the pit  of the body that does not fit,  in the fire where the mighty have fallen, he sleeps forgotten  Moths have made their home  in the heart that has been frozen and alone- where life doesn’t belong, where I’ve been too tired to be strong Striking thunder from inside- Godsend rain in the garden where roses die  shook forever in his slumber.  A prayer and a mumble  Joana Late April 2021

  oh but you don't see it, don't you baby? the screen in the back of my eye, the shot of blood,  the dust                  I will turn                                         into. oh you don't see it but it's there  and it's                                        free and never will be. like a prisoner of fate  like a mystery unsolved because it's only                                       a hound in the dark and stream of blood Joana  Written around the time I was fighting god (I won) February 2021

Dillard is a poet, and her artistic flair with the English language shines through every page. She’s not just a poet, she’s a scholar too; Pilgrim at Tinker Creek not only explores her personal meditations in nature but also her exploration of the meditations of others. She paints with her words in a way only a poet can do, not just the physical world but the workings of her mind too.  “If this furling air is fallen, then the fall was happy indeed, If the creekside garden is sorrow, then I seek martyrdom. This crown of thorns sits light on my skull, like wings.” Dillard writes throughout this book about the beauty vs the brutality of nature. The quote above is one of my favorite conclusions to her contemplations. She references the fall from the garden of Eden, where everything is meant to be perfect, into the imperfect world created below. She questions the view of this event being a biblical tragedy, because for an imperfect world, it still holds immense beauty. She seeks out “ma...

 The Walkman Effect by David Bebensee (Alt, 2020)   There is no Life to imagine without them. Whether you are in a Public Library, traveling via train or bus or just out and about walking through the beautiful city you just moved to, you will always see someone with or even yourself wearing headphones. With technology advancing and our world becoming more and more connected and less and less isolated Headphones restore a sense of privacy. Especially with the growing prevalence of noise-canceling Headphones creating a world of your own wherever you are is as easy as pressing a button. This can have positive and negative impacts on our productivity, our feeling of well-being and how we behave in society. And it all started with the invention of the Walkman at the end of the 1970s. In this essay I will describe how The Walkman and portable headphones, in general, had an impact on society by looking at “The Walkman Effect” and its controversies.   The first ever Pat...