Spirited on a Saturday evening
Minus the blessings of my wife and friends,
I began my epochal way to Harmony,
Bypassing other strains of lifeforms
Who had five different senses.
Sailing through icy wet flame
Past Pluto and Sirius, galaxies away,
On my Buck Rogers expedition,
Conquering a cryptic frontier,
I lost all feeling of now and next.
Using my blood as currency,
I bargained to discover new connections;
No turning back, warmly alone,
I roared on the rhythmic road to Harmony.
Michael M. Marks is a voice from all sides of the Midwest. Starting in Cincinnati and raised suburban Chicago, he became the first student to receive a Creative Writing degree at Kansas State University. He managed retail stores in Missouri, Illinois, Michigan, and Ohio; now a longtime resident of Akron with a patient wife and lots of grown children. Each day brings new questions of what is and what is not.