This poem was written around 1 a.m. on a bone-chilling night at the edge of Paynes Prairie as I lay on the waterfront shrouded in darkness. A single flickering candle cast its weary beacon of inspiration across the still-empty lines of my open journal … Read moreThose Stars

Author Ryelin Segars describes how skating can become a kind of magic. … Read moreConcrete baptism

The glass bottle on silica sand.
One substance, suspended in time.
The bottle, its beginning; the sand, its end … Read moreA butterfly skates on the breeze, or Zikaron