Micah Park Biffle

   Logan's Demons    Logan weeps as he watches it all burn. The smoke rising like death from a wintry rest. He cannot help but feel the world upon his chest. His eyes flooding beneath his feet, his hands wrapped upon his face like a mask.  But he cannot hide the misery that bellows from his sorrowed soul. He is alone, a solitude man with far fetched dreams. Reaching, falling, they slip through his fingers like light. Catching only the darkness that is left behind.  Even the birds that flutter about veer from his existence. They have abandoned all trees, all of natures touch. For Logan has breached the soils of earth with rotted roots. Piercing the once flourishing greens of his land.  But he is poisoned, poisoned by the ache of his heart. His eyes drivel with sorrow, sadness has sunk into his gut. Heavy be even the smallest breath. His flesh as pale as the dead, and like the dead, he feels no more.  He feels only the decay that has g...

The Bone Girl     I hear whispers in the night as I lay my head to rest. I assure you I am not ill, I am not mad in the mind or body. Quiet whispers I tell you, tickle gently upon the canals of my ears before each rest at midnight. Like wisps of wind through an empty hall.   But oddly, I fear them not but I am quite gripped in confusion. As if lost in a room of mirrors, I am finding no exit. But I do not allow my lost mind to be wild. I keep my wits about me as I lay myself to rest.       What these whispers say I do not know. They are foreign in tongue, or so I think. I reach out to my doctor, he gives me no advice but to take pills to help me rest. He states, "It may be your lack of well rest. Often the mind will become delusional if not sufficiently resting."   I take his offer of pills and yet, I still hear the somber voices that trickle from the air. I am not mad I tell you, I swear. There is no delusion of m...

   The Wild West  My father sprung from the porch and swept me up in his arms. At first I was not alarmed, as a young girl I thought for a moment he was playing with me. But as he picked me up and I giggled he gave no equal response.   I looked up, his face was stern with worry. His eyes gazed into the horizon as the sun started to sink behind the short cascade of desert hills. I then looked over as well and there in the distance like walking shadows, were six men riding horses.   We often got visitors at our home. We were near a central road for travelers. Which we often gave them a place to rest as long as they respected our rules. But these visitors, if you could even call them that were not the usual kind.   My father rushed me into the house and told me to lock the door in stay inside. I was then overcome with fear. My father shut the door and I locked it. As he shut it I saw him reaching for his pistol that was slung over his chair on the ...

A Crash that Left him Stranded  log 1) The plane I was on crashed landed upon an island. I am the only survivor and it has been fifteen days. The only lucky thing of this is not all the food burned up in the crash. But I did not go unscathed, much of my body is burned, I am hoping the salt water is enough to sustain the wounds from festering.  But I fear they may be beyond repair. How much longer I have, I cannot say? But the agony of my burns is only increasing as the days go on. Sleep as been horrific, I am in constant nightmares and waking to sweat.  Keeping hydrated is most difficult as I must drink the rain water. I have built a small bowl in the sand just outside my sleeping quarters to catch water. I have sewn leaves together with thread I had found in luggage that dropped from the plan.  I placed them in the sand as to help sustain as much water as possible. I am no seamstress so the water slowly seeps through into the sand. But it has been enou...

A Ranchers Love    Another day at the hands of hard labor. His heart loved, but his body trembling with exhaustion. Age is finding home inside his brittle bones as pride takes his logic. His hands as calloused as his first years. His body, ruffled by the heat of the sun.  His eyes embellished by the circling of darkness, the perching of crows. His hair, as ghostly as the morning mist. His face, worn, with years of dust, dirt, and grim. But his smile still remains, his heart still beats as if sixteen.  Jasper, opening the door to his lodge house that sits dead center upon his land. Steps inside and removes his boots. Holding each in one hand he turns to the opened door and clacks the boots together. Clouds of dust waft from the bottom of his boots. Chunks of mud fall to the heavy vibrations of the repetitive collision.   With the boots cleared, he places them to the left of the door just inside. Jasper turns to the door and shuts it. Turning back to...

    Digging your own Grave?   How eager your lips spill with contempt for any step you must take. Never forced to be as you are, yet you slither with slime, sulking in the suffering of your own making. Your eyes drivel with tears as if the world should feel pity.   Your back slouched in answer of your own lack of self confidence. You confine your sorrows in drinks or, the bitter taste of your sour tongue. Contorting words with jealousy as you waddle your way with billowed blame.   Your heavy heart rests at the bottom of your gut, like a forgotten memory, rotting. Stuck in a rut, your eyes fixed downward. Looking to your feet as you raise your hand to the sky with a finger of criticism of those that speak well.   You kneel as the soils beneath your frail bones become sullied in tears. No longer can it bear the standing pressure of your chiding thoughts. You must spread your weight upon your soft ground. Your foundation is uncertain. ...

 Holding Dearly    In my arms I hold my wife, her heart silent. Her skin as pale as the snow. She is cold, no longer holding warmth. Her embrace has vanished and her face is no longer familiar. Her lingering soul I feel though, I feel it upon my chest.  I hear her voice speak softly, telling me to let go. But I cannot not. I cannot let such a love vanish so swiftly. This is not how I saw it, this is not how it should have ended. Our souls were meant for the ever lasting.  We were meant to see a thousand sunsets and kiss a thousand moons. Now here I stand, alone in our house, the fire sparking its last coals. Winter settling its arms upon the valley and my breath seeping like mist from the mountains.   Feeling every piece of me crumble like the dying leaf. How pitiful I be, holding dear the lifeless vessel of my wife. I know I need to let her go, I know she is no longer her. But my heart still weeps, a hole has burrowed through my ribs and into m...

  Mia's Moment    Mia's apricot dress forms to her steps like hanging sheers left to summer wind. Her smile blossoms with a radiant glow. Her makeup composed of complimenting complexions as her jeweled eyes shimmer to the brilliant moment.  Her hands gently grasp a bouquet of wild flowers. Their colors blend with beautiful assertion of their position. Mia, stepping with grace is surrounded by joyful tears and aroused eyes of anticipation. As music delicately trickles from the background like tender rain. Forming to the moment like a kiss beneath a melting moon.   A uniformed veil hangs softly upon Mia's face as she divinely strides with short rhythm-ed steps. Her arm suddenly and carefully grasped by her father. His heart blissfully excited, yet sorrowed in the giving of his daughter. But his eyes look to the groom with a wondrous embrace as his pepper beard covers is quivering lips.   The audience watches with careful whispers of awe as Mi...

 Carry Barden's Tragedy   Everyday Carry Barden lays beneath an old oak with a book in hand. Here eyes are of golden brown and skin of galaxy cream. Her hair hangs like gentle threads of cotton. Everyday her eyes glow as she turns the pages of her book.   She savors every droplet of imagination presented before her. Her hands gentle, tickling the corner of the page just before turning it. Her face explores with vivid expression, no emotion is left without notice.   Tears, smiles, and joyful laughter spring from her. Tension of anticipation clasps to her chest leaving her of shallow breath. Her face with grins with anger as villains swarm many pages of her books. Their deceitful and vile ways plunge Carry into a imaginative rage.  Playing out thoughts as to what she would do. Pretending to conjoin her reality with the book. Stretching her imagination not only within the book but within her world. Creating side stories in her head. She even plays...

    A Round Table Greed   I have found myself as mad as the Tell-Tale Heart. I see them and I want to silence their grovelling. Their incessant need to banter about their virtuous tongues. How mighty they talk as they sip the most expensive brandy in the city.   How well their words be versed from their academic life. S  compelling, so persuasive you just might believe them. But I see it, I see their greedy eyes dart to each to others extravagance. Each talking up themselves up like children.   Oh how trivial all this be. How dull their senses must be. Their egos inflate with each sip of brandy as their character loosens like a whore through out the night. I wish to deal great death to them, maybe poison their drinks or.....or cut out their hearts one by one forcing each to watch.   Ha, how glorious it would be, to feel their warm hearts die in the grip of my hand as the blade  lay flush upon their now silent chests. Oh, but if I be th...

   Imagination to Change    High up we take to our imagination, for the world around us is poor. Broken, an apocalyptic spectacle that teeters on the unforgivable. Hundreds of abandoned buildings stand with dark and dreary faces. Broken windows form with jagged edges. Doors hang like  loose nails upon fingers and the walls slowly cave to the unwavering season of winter.   Empty lots of concrete split by the hand of nature. Weeds sprout like appendages reaching desperately for air. Once covered in the crust of  heavy darkness they now breach with a chance of breath.   But how foreign they appear to us, to me and my brother. We have been here our entire lives, in this, dark phantasmal place. This cryptic realm of what we are told is reality. But something we have always felt lingers in our heads, this thought of a better place.    A place where people smile as you pass by. A place where the efforts of man are not st...

  Roman's Love    Out from the thunderous clouds he fell. Flames rage, enveloping his body like fiery winds. He his voiceless, motionless as he falls. Descending to the crust of earth. Falling from stars like a meteor sent for destruction.   Colliding with the earth at a wild speed he is forced through many layers of soil. Stones crumble, dirt flings, and hidden streams of water are revealed. His momentum is ceased after the resistance of earth becomes sufficient.   He now lays dormant in the belly of the earth. Hours go by before he becomes conscience of thought. He awakes in a mad jolt, as if rising from a nightmare. His body beads with sweat as his lethargic mind awakens. He stumbles to his feet looking up at a blue sky.   He looks to his body and feels himself with concern. He focuses his thoughts to where he may be. And how he has arrived in this unknown space. His hazel eyes dart about the cavernous crater his impact has caused.   H...