Felicia A. Rivers

Felicia Rivers lives in the green western suburbs of Philadelphia, where she works for a financial institution, pursues her BA in
English at Villanova, carves out poetry, plays, and the odd and random thought-form (the focus placed upon these efforts is apt
to change without notice). She had her first poetry readings at the Bacchanal in Philadelphia back in the 80s (her knees shook),
and her plays have appeared at CEC in Philadelphia as well as Pulse Ensemble Theater in New York. Poetry and random
essays can be found at http://coyoteroad.blogspot.com/.

Arc


From where?
To there, I think
A long, long road.

As a child,
I crouched
In deep green grass,

Where bug legions
Crawled, and dreamt
The lives of birds,

Where we, as one
Turned face
To wide-eyed skies.

Where roads
Arched white
Against an endless blue.

Ground to sky
A walk we dream
But fear to fly,

Until we die
And find the distance
Never there at all.

Elastic Dreams



A dream is a trick of the mind
That counsels us to reach
To stretch,
To dream again
And in dreaming, stretch
And in stretching, reach
And in reaching step into our dream
Or fall to earth
To dream ...