#butterflies
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by Michael Plante Secrets buried beneath the soilthought forgotten by those that deceivebut all misdeeds cut the souland blackness seeps out like blood.The structure that houses their Godfalls silent in the nightthe sickness remainsthe floors rotten. At dusk they fall to their kneesand God’s eyes look downwhat gets them through the nightshall strangle them by…
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by Michael Plante She was chasing the sunshine of her youthher fashionable colors and markings designed to hold unsuspecting eyescould draw the stoutest of men to danceand dance they did. “My curse is that I’m color-blind,” she said. Somewhere on the west coast is a paradisewhere free spirits meet and singfreely dancing upon the waves…
