Even when Death inhabits a poem, he does not own it. He is a squatter. In fact, Death owns nothing. – Todd Moore
Laundromat They say it all comes Out in the wash Sticks and stones Scrapes and burns Tears and smiles Years of wear made my Hair turn gray The color in my eyes Has faded I have come clean In my Continue reading laura m. porras | laundromat
La Buanderie Ceci est comme Hopper l’aurait peint : la rangée des sécheuses jaunes attrapant le soleil dans la vitrine, un homme la main étendue vers la machine à sous, la tête tournée sur le coté comme s’il réfléchissait, une Continue reading albert huffstickler | la buanderie | laundromat