by Grant Clauser
Going back to the wreckage
was, of course, a mistake,
like going back to revenge
or digging up the bones
of your childhood pet. Continue reading
by Grant Clauser
Going back to the wreckage
was, of course, a mistake,
like going back to revenge
or digging up the bones
of your childhood pet. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Carolyn Adams
The night I fell to earth,
I crashed through the sunset
and all its colors striped my skin.
Idiot birds, constantly circling,
crowned impossibly tall foliage.
The trees were animals,
their vulnerable chests
thrust forward. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Zack Rogow
We outlive them, our shirts. Too easily they get
snagged by chain link fences,
or pockmarked by sauces
twirled with golden oils. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Douglas Cole
Awake in another world,
returning, again…
A mystery, a sterile hotel,
swimming in the huge pool
while the winds blow overhead,
the island still in my mind. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry