Even when Death inhabits a poem, he does not own it. He is a squatter. In fact, Death owns nothing. – Todd Moore
It’s no charity It’s no charity when the man who walks among the stars smiles down on all of us in our Potter’s Field futures with a Janice face with a Janice soul then reaches to pull up our hoards Continue reading It’s no charity by Matthew Abuelo
Untitled The Kakocracy has finally won. Didn’t you know that? The rats at the helm No longer fear the rat catcher. He was been bought a long time ago And is nothing more than an errand boy Or file clerk Continue reading Untitled by Matthew Abuelo
Last Love Letter This is the city of Of the buried And Or The forgotten. Buried under the sounds of Heavy base from passing cars Or the screeching of The breaking subway cars. Or the thunder of high heel shoes Continue reading Last Love Letter by Matthew Abuelo