The
      Panther
      Prints
     
    
   
   
    
     
      creative
      writing
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
      #1
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Posted
      upon
      a
      great
      city
      wall,
      is
     
     
      alist
      of
      regulations
      that
      represent
     
     
      a
      definition
      of
      social
      sanity.
     
     
      Almost
      as
      if
      these
      laws
      manage
      to
     
     
      separate
      the
      pure
      and
      the
      evil.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      I
      stand
      on
      top
      of
      the
      harsh
      reality
      behind
     
     
      US
      ECIUEa
      rameter
      lt
      elt)
     
     
      UMM
      UIaeiCete
      Cee
      Ae
     
    

    
     
      me
      TB\YITa
      mei
      Mihm
      oleic
      |
      (eae
     
    

    
     
      Due
      to
      my
      passion,
      I
      am
      labelled
      unstable,
     
     
      Pee
      RU
      newt
     
    

    
     
      my
      doubt.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      My
      childish
      delinquencies
      somewhat
      disguise
     
     
      my
      genuine
      intentions.
      I’m
      perfectly
     
    

    
     
      sealed
      and
      packaged,
      only
      to
      be
      sent
      of
     
    

    
     
      to
      a
      corrupt
      obedience
      school,
      where
     
    

    
     
      I
      help
      introduce
      some
      decency.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      LO
      Reese
      MRM
      IRM
      Ru
      IRM
      CoP
      LeCie
     
    

    
     
      the
      piercing,
      yet
      hopeful
      eyes
      of
      the
      guilty
     
     
      PEO
      PRIOR
      Oe
      ee
      NM
      eee
      ye)
      Bee
     
     
      ..and
      when
      my
      face
      finally
      cracks
      witha
      subtle
      yet
     
     
      NE
      AAT
      CMMNE
      EAU
      NM
      SOE
      ce
      OC
     
     
      All
      the
      fathers,
      and
      priests,
      and
      politicians
     
    

    
     
      that
      once
      parented
      me,
      simply
      shake
      their
      heads
     
     
      in
      disappointment
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Late
      Summer
      Rain
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Sitting
      inthe
      silence
     
    

    
     
      Hearing
      water
      trickling
      from
      the
      eaves
     
     
      falling
      onthelawn
     
    

    
     
      Watching
      thelast
      remnant
     
     
      of
      what
      used
      to
      bea
      hurricane
     
    

    
     
      Waiting
      forthe
      lightning
     
    

    
     
      Seeing
      none.
     
    

    
     
      Wondering
      ifthe
      girl
     
    

    
     
      Who
      lives
      across
      the
      park
     
    

    
     
      Is
      home
      from
      work
      yet.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Joe
      Stevens-Written
      on
      a
      rainy
      night
      in
     
     
      September,
      shortly
      before
      midnight.
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
      March
      25,
      1997
     
    
   
   
    
     
      #2
     
    
   
   
    
     
      I
      strike
      up
      a
      conversation
      with
      the
      hand
      that
     
    

    
     
      guides
      me
      to
      the
      lake
      just
      to
      surrender.
     
    

    
     
      He
      tells
      me
      that
      my
      eyes
      are
      young...
     
    

    
     
      and
      it
      seems
      as
      though
      I
      may
      be
      done,
     
    

    
     
      for
      the
      whole
      world
      has
      my
      name
      upon
      their
      shoulder.
     
     
      Like
      a
      fish
      swimming
      in
      pond
      where
      no
      fish
      swim...
     
    

    
     
      I
      am
      told
      I
      should
      sit
      down...and
      take
      a
      subtle
      look
      around...
     
     
      for
      I
      am
      the
      only
      soldier
      who
      begs
      to
      be
      out
      of
      order,
     
     
      for
      I
      am
      the
      only
      soldier
      out
      of
      order.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      While
      sweeping
      up
      the
      broken
      glass...
     
    

    
     
      I’ve
      no
      choice
      but
      to
      look
      upon
      my
      past...
     
    

    
     
      and
      hope
      someday
      I’ll
      understand
      my
      surrender.
     
     
      but
      for
      now
      it’s
      just
      another
      burden
      on
      my
      shoulder.
     
     
      but
      for
      now
      it’s
      just
      another
      burden
      on
      my
      shoulder.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Well
      sure,
      my
      eyes
      are
      young,
     
    

    
     
      and
      they
      bleed
      flame.
     
    

    
     
      and
      when
      I
      dance,
     
    

    
     
      I’m
      just
      the
      same
      as
      all
      the
      others.
     
     
      and
      if
      I
      dance,
     
    

    
     
      I’m
      just
      the
      same
      as
      all
      the
      others.
     
     
      I
      wouldn’t
      dare
      sell
      my
      passion...
     
     
      to
      be
      the
      same
      as
      all
      the
      others...
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Robert
      Gallant