Marty Grumblis It takes around 4,000 newtons of force to break the human femur, or roughly 6,000 pounds of compressive pressure. The comeback is brutal, full recovery taking upwards of a year in some cases. A year wasted in the hospital for us in the 21st century, but sometimes I think about our late ancestors, skeletons with healed femurs. Their families and communities cared for them, hunted for them, made sure they were safe without any of our modern luxuries. The world has always been cruel and punishing, but humans have found a way to love each other enough to walk again.  

By Brian Anderson Golden crown with ruby accent  Beautiful and elegant   Six days later  Sodden leaves beneath my toes  Birds descend   And all is gone. 

By Carrie Harris The glint on the water is  long   wobbly   inconsistent.   Sends off sparks   rays of light  is beautiful.  Just like me.  In the periphery  the brightest and   loudest.  Just like me.  Ripples cross it, toss it.  Just like me. 

By Jasmine Perea We call her Mother Nature   and we claim that we’re trying to save her.   But,   We build concrete jungles on top of her jungles.    Society doesn’t run off of Trees and streams  or see the beauty in the bees.   Society runs off of greed,  and continues to hand it down to their seeds.  

By Connor Nielsen Coffee for me,  Coffee for you,   Without dear Coffee,  Our college careers would be through! 

Anonymous Run while you can  for he hungers for more  he awaits you  At your front door?  Under your floorboards?  His knowledge knows no bounds  He will find you  Even if you skip town  Run while you can  Because everyone fears the IRS man 

Anonymous The lovely glow is what you show  for I know it is pain that stains you.  I know it is troubling times that have changed you.  You are to me what water is to a tree  And I shall sing my love for you from sea to sea.  A tune that will never fail me,  The love that has never changed me.  I will see you soon  My beautiful little moon. 

Corinna Cook I sleep on a plush couch in front of the woodstove under the mounted head of a bison. The bison’s head is beautiful and enormous and probably haunted. I believe I could fit my whole body into it. Some folding is all it would take: bent knees, abdomen pressed to thighs, chin tucked, arms hugging. I imagine rivers of muscle from which the bison’s head was severed. In my fetal position, curled up inside its skull, I’m rocked left and right, alone with every choice I’ve ever made. The ungulate nibbles and chews, crunches and slurps, while the woodstove hisses and grows, eventually, dim. 

Paul Twardock Anticipating the question, he answers with authority. A situation or a conversation with an unknown outcome leads to the authoritative answer made with assumptions. Assumptions based on the past. Assumptions based on a need or desire of the authority figure, but not of others. Maybe even they think their need and desire is that of others, but who knows without asking, with just reaction. Can’t say, not knowing. 

By Laura Ditto How lonely the moon must be to have finally met a friend, yet only take what has been given, and hand it out again.  It yearns for some attention and blisters in the sun, but gives the light it has received and leaves itself with none.  The moon it only loves and cares for all it sees. It takes not what is given— instead, it sets it free.