I know I shouldn’t make fun of god,
but I think he goofs every now and then.
So, what must it be like to be all knowing,
omnipotent and everything to everyone?
Pretty heady stuff I would imagine.
But what happens when that entity, that person, or god,
is carrying a tray full of paint of every color imaginable,
and steps over a mountain range,
catching their toe on the topmost peak.
Can you see it?

God cartwheeling across China,
paint flying across three provinces,
the music, can you paint with all the colors of the wind, 
playing in the background?
When the paint clears, is it a catastrophe?
Like the time I spilled my cereal all over my mother’s new rug.
Or is it simply another masterpiece,
like so many god has done before,
like the flowers covering the low valleys in springtime,
or the black and white paintings he does in winter
of snow-covered peaks in moonlight.

I suppose, these mountains in China
are just another example of god’s artistic
method of letting things fall where they may.
I’m beginning to wonder if anything is ever planned, 
any thought given to design in advance.
No wonder evolution is such a popular theory of creation.
After trying for seven days to get his technique down right,
he just quit and let things run their own course.
Now look what we have.

Unadulterated beauty everywhere.
It’s enough to throw your hands up in the air
and just sit, crossed legged,
take it all in and call it a day.
Maybe that’s it. Those mountains, 
full of color, unnatural color at that,
happened on the first day,
followed by everything else afterward.
No, those mountains in China were a slip,
a muscle spasm upending the paint tray of life,
what a spasm it was.

—Paul Causey

Inspired by the visual prompt: Rainbow Mountains of China’s Zhangye Danxia National Geologic

See Me (Lessons From A Blind Kindergartener) For: S.G.

They tell me of these colors bold,
Of wondrous sights to see.
What means so much to you,
Means so very little to me.

I reach out front,
Beyond me.
Teach me about what I can feel!
The seen path you take for granted,
Neglects the navigation of this hill.

The object dropped,
Loud upon the floor.
The sound so piercing to my ears,
With ease you can ignore.

As I walk through the darkness,
I have you along my side.

When you close your eyes with empathy,
You become a better guide.

—Jess Godwin

Inspired by the visual prompt: Rainbow Mountains of China’s Zhangye Danxia National Geologic


Twenty-five years ago I fell into a deep well,
landed on the eiderdown, 
bounced up and landed 
on the ground and bounced again.

I floated into love, 
    covered in a coat of golden feathers,
       scented with you, like the green grass that bursts from the earth 
        after the spring rain.

As time and love passed away,
        most feathers molted and fell like ash. 
            I still hoist your colors, I still carry banners in your memory,

Though your sweat and sound have faded,
       the snow still melts, 
the crawfish scuttle from the rocks.
The blades of green return. 
Each year they hold me in a love 
where once I held you.

This is the love I walk in. 

This is a love I move in, 
a love that touches currents, a sound to tightrope.
This is a love that cracks the crust of earths,
that dwarfs the galaxies, and swallows 
the universe, whole.
This is a gravity I cannot escape, 
nor would I wish to,
for though the scent, the sound, the feel of your breath is gone,
I still walk in the cool night air we ran together through, in childish delight.
I know now, once, I was loved, 
when so many are not,
and that is enough.

—Emily Romano

The Rarity of Being Born Human