by Leslie Schultz
Orion, with his starry belt and club,
looms over my house this late autumn eve,
strides with his dog, as if whistling toward his pub,
cozy with constellatory make-believe, Continue reading
by Leslie Schultz
Orion, with his starry belt and club,
looms over my house this late autumn eve,
strides with his dog, as if whistling toward his pub,
cozy with constellatory make-believe, Continue reading