I dreamt of a day
emptied of all beauty
human beings had banned

autonomy --crucified as a criminal
difference --blended as a flat smoothie
risk --quarantined as a leper
the divine --dubbed as a dunce
science --married as the state religion
journalism --spinning on the web

so, humans were screen-reeducated 
to march in lockstep

the same direction, wearing
the same expressions...

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Biscuit Without Cream

Ujjal Mandal, India

If I lose myself in the dreamland
Where dreams are made of sand,
The real world will seem just a dream
Like a biscuit without cream

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Résumé / Michael Kwack

Love is,

like art,

dull without passion.

Marriage is,

like enterprise,

tough without fortune.

Home is,

like chair,

harsh without comfort.

Life is,

like sleep,

dry without dream.

Death is,

like letter,

empty without story.

Will is,

like poem,

absurd without wit.

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