Nothing

Andrea spent a lot of time thinking about nothing. To her surprise, when her parents or boyfriend asked her what she was thinking about, her reply always seemed to annoy them. The concept of nothing was so eternally fascinating. She'd try and engage them on the topic, but they insisted she was being distant.

Oh well.

Like, does nothing even exist? There's clearly something, lots of things, so it seemed to Andrea that nothing was just something we imagined.

She was so deep in thought, she failed to notice her teacher staring at her.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

The Sandbox

The days pass, and with each exhale, from nothing, there is formation of something; something new. She kneads Gaia’s dough to create substance; substance from silt. Steadfast, the new titan’s loamy paws fury on, and her reliefs; bring her relief.

Unknown eyes gaze in unease, at the new one, at Poseidon and Hephaestus as one, a little one, a guileless deity of change. Born from the inertia of Chaos, born as something different; different than what was before. The Twelve gaze in unease. Deimos pours another round. In their kylixes, they see moving mountains. It’s time to protect their home.

From Guest Contributor Kyle Malloy

Writing Over

I hadThis poemThat was likeRe-FusingTo beLike junkRunning lateIn your veinsRe-WiringMemoriesBefore theyare madeOkay, theyare notsunk inThat deepBut narrativeAbout thisIs on itsWay butits latejust likeThis feeling-Passing-FeelingRe-LivingScreens toSublimatedDreams

I'm walkingAnd the sunHits meEveryone wantsTo haveSomethingThey don’tSee, in youthis poetryConcealed inA voiceBut they will keepWriting yourStory overBefore it isOneBefore onceEven notingThat your poemIs already

From Guest Contributor Wyatt Martin