Even when Death inhabits a poem, he does not own it. He is a squatter. In fact, Death owns nothing. – Todd Moore
Lost Love Blues I don’t want a man who loves so aggressively well when you find your man who loves less than me don’t ever come running back to me. Ritualistic Blues (the dance of life itself) the ordinary walls Continue reading olly bryan | 2 new poems
Blue Straggler I am part of the people part of nothing isolated from the modern navy serenaded by a night moth declaring something just to know I still exist eating a brick to make my mouth bloom giving a fist Continue reading olly bryan | blue straggler
POEM FOR JACK MICHELINE (IN MY ROOM) ‘diaries of moments recorded in an assertion of will from that will springs all wisdom’ Jack Micheline Jack, you sculpted beauty out of lunacy in a world which seeped and continues to seep Continue reading olly bryan | poem for jack micheline (in my room)