Even when Death inhabits a poem, he does not own it. He is a squatter. In fact, Death owns nothing. – Todd Moore
2 deaths for the price of one Sometimes I wake up and realize my mother is dead and I don’t know how to cry and I don’t how to rage numbness all around desolation all I know is this cavity Continue reading Four poems by Mike Zone
The shelter the angry water which harasses the celestial let me show you madness in a coffee cup the black pools of fate contrasting egg shell fragility containment units OMAC was the one man army corp of a kirby-esque pacifism Continue reading The shelter by Mike Zone