Blue jay mornings and rhubarb smiles:
mix tapes for going around corners.

A newborn ant has been wonderfully forgotten on the mountain
deep inside the kaleidoscope of warm pastel semitones
drowning in the forest surrounding it

and how I walk past it on my hike, glance at it, and realize
how many millions of others I’ve never noticed
how no one will probably ever notice him 
or his brothers again like this, like I did just now.

My ears are buzzing. My eyes are suspended
in a short film playing only this Thursday.

They clean the streets later on tonight
but we’re on our bikes until
they force us off the streets 
no not necessarily back inside but maybe out into the open
for I think it would be better to stay on the beat
maybe admire the curbmoppers and windowlickers 
and Dali dalmatians cleared of all their spots and inconsistencies 
now they’re ferocious little white terriers chasing us under fences
and for once in our lives we’re the rainbow trout shimmering
in reverb harmonies under the acoustic stream, the caustic meadow,
under the stern of the ship desperate to be caught
perhaps even more desperate to be released again. The steam engine
blows shrill, an aggravated howl of exertion and 
even though all we can hear down here is muted vibrations
we know it’s time to be caught.
I want to be captured for once

(our incandescent swansong)
man when our humanity is packed deep
in the eyes of our pupils for others to see—
visceral in the hues. And when our retinas
are recording their new vision playing Next Thursday
with no film in the camera because we’ll live into
another era if we continue to behave like this
just little static stereoscopic saints

singing something sweet and beautiful to each other

“I love you man—
please don’t let them get to you”

p.s. as usual, like us on Facebook! The more support we have, the more we can support lovely independent and aspiring artists xx

by Ryan Martinez

I close my eyes and I am alone

in the backseat of my dad’s car.

The freeway isn’t loud

enough to drown out

the conversation up front and I wish

I was 400 miles away

where the sun melts 

the air and the wind

reminds me of freedom. 

p.s. as usual, like us on Facebook! The more support we have, the more we can support lovely independent and aspiring artists xx

by Angela Barton 

He was known by my friends as dirt,

but I saw inside,

by Angela Barton

I wait patiently as the Hunger builds. 

And so lay bare with me, my creations

Bitter dancer lay with me and

Decode my fortunes and my miseries

Where has this northern wind taken me?

And upon whose depths do I lay

I irk with the misgivings of idleness and

Insensitivity

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We’ve almost reached our summer goal of 500 followers, so spread the word! 

by Thomas J. Clark

Tossing up over patched roadway,

On a mild, dead, February night,

We were shooting up to 85 North

From down East on the perimeter.

It was the way back.

My stomach climbed my chest

Like a vine;

Not for the turbulent ride,

Or the highway speed,

But for the heaviness of thirty or so dark miles more,

Pressing my head to the passenger side window,

Cracked enough for the mercy

Of a half-cold wind

To breathe over our still faces.

Every streetlamp on the way

Cast us yellow before our shadows,

Severe and frozen,

When I caught them at every flicker.

I watched you too, even in the darkness between lamps.

You steered and drove onward, with a tired right hand

And straining eyes.

For a few more seconds,

A few more flickers in the dark

As we travelled on, I watched

Your closed eyes

Long enough to take the wheel

And point us straight,

Long enough to realize,

How far we were from halfway home.

p.s. as usual, like us on Facebook! The more support we have, the more we can support lovely independent and aspiring artists xx 

We’ve almost reached our summer goal of 500 followers, so spread the word! 

by Tosha Feldkamp 

Whisper to me my darling

Please, from time to time

The secret musings of your heart

And whether your still mine

The blackened sky doth tell the sky

To whom he does belong

And just before the summer storm

Unleashes forth in song

The ocean to the shore is bound

And escape is never planned

The waves return repeatedly

To kiss upon the sand

The cherry blossoms know their place

Belonging to the tree

In the springtime they express their love

And bloom most splendidly

So tell me now what’s in your heart

Does it still beat for me?

For my heart still belongs to you

For all eternity.

p.s. as usual, like us on Facebook! The more support we have, the more we can support lovely independent and aspiring artists xx

by Profound Mercenary

It started off a normal day

Kicking it with the cows and dogs

When Farmer Ted

Dragged me to his office

Sorry to say this but you’re moving

HE’s coming tomorrow to take you away

I can’t believe what Farmer Ted just said

HE was the worst thing that

Can happen to an animal like me

HE comes in and takes you away

Then takes you to a factor far away

From all the people you ever loved

HE came and I said my goodbyes

Then was shoved to the back of truck

I was given a shot and fell fast asleep

Next thing I know I was soaked

In bowl while someone chopped me up

Next to the bowl was a box

Shake n Bake

Little by little I was put into a bag of brown batter

Then this mysterious women shook me up and down

Then shoved me in an oven

An hour later I was taken out

Put on a dinner table

To serve a family of four

And that was the last thing I remember

p.s. as usual, like us on Facebook! The more support we have, the more we can support lovely independent and aspiring artists xx

we love art. In fact, we are passionate about it. We hate to see aspiring artists struggle. For this reason, every year, Vitality has decided to donate 10% of its revenue to a nonprofit organization that supports the arts. 

this year, we’ve partnered up with the Downtown Writer’s Center in Syracuse, NY, which helps aspiring writers publish their works (and even get book deals!). We wrote about the organization in our preview issue. You can also learn more about these awesome people here. 

p.s. as usual, like us on Facebook! The more support we have, the more we can support lovely independent and aspiring artists xx

by L.N. Ferris

The blue, your hair
is circumstance in my eyes
you’re still so warm
and the sun pauses, like me
kissing your shoulder only lasts
a moment. 

Butterfly eyelashes flying over
infinity
“I don’t give a fuck who you are I just
want you.”
We don’t need to breathe. Oh, Lord
we don’t need to breathe.
“Come here.”

Can flowers bloom heat?
Your playground touch brings night to
my knees
A forest of stars to swallow.
Come here, flower
bring me the
heat.

p.s. as usual, like us on Facebook! The more support we have, the more we can support lovely independent and aspiring artists xx