A Burial of Memories: Prologue In a large, conical classroom, a teacher discussed strategics with his students. They were all a part of the Gannean military, though many of them would never fight in a battle. Yet still they sat, listening to the lecture with swords and lances and bows beside them. They all had been trained to use them, but some of them would never wish to. One of the students near the back drooped his head down and snored lightly, succumbing to sleep. A sharp jab hit him between his ribs. With a sudden inhale, Seth's snoring stopped, and his head popped up. The teacher continued his lecture as Seth looked over at Ruth, the student next to him. She mouthed the words "stay awake" to him, back to writing down notes. Seth picked up his own pen and tried to continue his own notes. There was a row of large scribbles from when he had fallen asleep, and beneath them, barely legible writing. He wondered what he had missed during his nap. Zachary Slone, the teacher, w
Steak SandwichA taste of red leaps and bounds all over the place, flashes of gold splash around.The waitress's words feel soft as wool as she asks,"Does everything taste all right?"It does, but it's not that simple.Beef gets torn apart with every bite,Chewed through, crunched throughThe fried onions are spiky, and jab at my tongue while making crackling sounds under the pressure of teeth.The bread is rough and tough, all of the softness toasted out of it.There's too much else going on here for one to just taste their food.
La LuneHera's pendant restsAgainst a dark'ning sky;The winking sequinsOn her sable, velvet gownReflect the light of her eyes.
Nous sommes l'emeraudesSupporting the weightOf a heavy atmosphereEmerald pillars rise;Our distorted perspectiveLeaves us musing over worth.
Cold Thoughts一緒に冷たいと思考と沈黙。いっしょにつめたいとしこうとちんもく。(Cold and thoughts and silence together.)
Frost IV.Ghosts tarry at my window,Scripting sad sonnets with their cold breath--The crystal ink of winter.
Frost III. (Demeter)Demeter paints with her sighsOn the barren branches of the trees,Pining sorely for the Spring.
Frost II.The dust of snow fairy wingsIs left glittering on the windowWhere they lingered, seeking warmth.
Frost I.Tiny diamonds strewn, winkingIn silver rays of moonlight o'er bladesOf grass that we've trodden down.
Untitleda lighter toucha green fly on the stringof her guitar
Snowflake FanciesThe plume of a sprite--Which she plucked from her mantle--Is left glitteringOn her downy bed of grass;Soft frosty feathers of snow.
British PetroleumWaves turn sand to mudOil washed away like darknessThat sad, long lost mess