Accordion by Teddy Macker There are no more roses anymore, even though there are roses. Fastly tightening, people looking down into their hands, styrofoam everywhere, energy drinks, plexiglass, porn, there are no more accordions, no more bluebirds, no more freckled girls and rivers, rivers of water. But we -  we must make prayers again. The navel of every human is lonely. The innocent countries of the back.Shoulders like night-quiet pines. Don't ask for God. Don't ask for happiness or liberation. When you pray, ask for the world to return to your eyes. The poem above has haunted me since I encountered it. It seems so creatively expressive of the way things are...when we look away or look down in our preoccupations or absences. We miss so much. And we are not aware of how much it matters.  And yet we desire happiness and freedom... Perhaps it is there. The roses are there whether we see them or not; so are the buds of spring and the golden pollen; so are the frisbees and balls