Bobby Slais was born in 1961 and has been a resident of Michigan in the United States his whole life. A single father with two children in the house, raising them alone while working a high level engineering job in the Detroit metro area. One of his children is a special needs child, certainly providing many challenges in all their daily lives. Bobby’s passion and determination has shown through in all aspects of his life. He was a nationally ranked marathon runner in college but had to take time off school to help raise his siblings when his mother passed away. An innovative engineer currently holding ten US patents for product lines his company manufactures. For fun and relaxation, he swings a metal detector, finding buried treasures when the Michigan weather allows it. Two gold coins and many gold and silver treasures adorn his treasure chest. He had the feature article and appeared the cover of a prominent treasure hunting magazine in early 2007. Poetry is a big part of Bobby’s life. His innovative and empathic nature spills out of the verse as he weaves emotion found in life’s journeys and surprises into his work for all to read and relate to. Several of his poems have been published in poetry magazines and he is currently refining his first manuscript.
I head outside for a smoke, killing time
trying to minute away seconds from work’s furious wind,
the rush of emails, paper reports, faxes, and phone calls.
In front of me, a commotion, broken leaves and debris,
scraps of paper, twigs, and golden pine needles
swirl around on the thin strip of concrete driveway
leading into the loading dock. They tumble on in
from around the building corner, an unseen twirling force
pulls them into this vortex. It’s a bizarre confusion
with an appealing, somewhat mesmerizing beauty
as they topple and dance like puppets on strings,
at times almost being set free, being sucked back in
spinning into the mix again. They are being forced to work
by something they cannot control. In the center of it all,
a brownish clump of dampness, compressed by last night’s rain
unmoving, not affected by the howling as if they just don’t care,
like dead weight co-workers. The rest continue to move
in their taunting and repeating pattern, around, in and out,
and around again. I almost feel sorry for them. They are trapped.
Content with the bit of fresh air I have taken in, I weave my way back
toward my place, hitting the fax machine on my way by,
picking up some printed copies, answering a coworkers question.
Finally turning the corner into my cube, I notice it,
one leaf clinging onto the cuff of my black dress pants.
I pluck it off, setting it free and place it on my desk.
We both sit still for a brief moment
and let the world spin around us.
Ivan Donn Carswell
Dana A. Campbell
James H Duncan
Milton P. Ehrlich
Dr. Kane X. Faucher
John C. Goodman
Oritsegbemi Emmanuel Jakpa
Ruth Â Ellen Kocher
Dimitris P. Kraniotis
Louis K. Lowy
Elaine Rosenberg Miller
Nicoletta A. Poulakida
Bobby Slais (R Jay)
Paul A. Toth
C. Derick Varn
Anne Harding Woodworth