by John Tustin
I see the moment in my mind
As if I was not a participant but witnessed it –
Like an old black and white photograph
Of two people in a single speck of time
That has defined their entire lives to a stranger.
by John Tustin
I see the moment in my mind
As if I was not a participant but witnessed it –
Like an old black and white photograph
Of two people in a single speck of time
That has defined their entire lives to a stranger.
Filed under Poetry
by John A. Nieves
“How I don’t know what I should do with my hands when I talk to you.
How you don’t know where you should look, so you look at my hands.”
—John K. Samson
It wasn’t always crayons—sometimes chalk or markers, sometimes
just the wish to somehow say. But I pressed hard into paper, each word
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