Mike Demsher: Know Yourself
John Hart: Blue and Gold Dinner

Odom Sam: Ode to the Pillow

 

There placed in the heap,

A cloud

From the sky,

Floating,

A piece of the heavens,

I found you lifeless.

 

In the vicinity,

Were the couches,

Lamps,

Love seats,

Of a hospitable home,

Clocks,

Chairs,

Of the broken household,

Of the variety,

Of the ever working

factories.

From the

Labor

Of men and

their lasting effort.

You have been born.

 

A bright silver spectator,

Observing unimaginable

ideas of the wandering mind.

Only you can

Contour your body

to cradle the irreplaceable head.

Your cloud-like innards

That cushion any weight that befalls upon the surface.

Your mellifluous exterior

concealed by perturbed silk.

 

A symbol of relaxation,

 Feathery Rectangle,

Comforting

The tired,

Rejuvenating

 the weak,

Product of the rough,

supple hands,

A downy, velvety pillow.

Reliable coziness that

Lies on the platform of dreams.

 

 

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