Even when Death inhabits a poem, he does not own it. He is a squatter. In fact, Death owns nothing. – Todd Moore
Airwaves A cold crisp night Stars in the sky Trucks rolling by People working The second shift Driving home Hoping Their beer Is still cold When they get there Wherever there is I listened To WLS Out of Chicago On Continue reading Airwaves by RJ Looney
Flagging Down The Devil I was sick in the backseat reading an Archie comic The Impala was rolling up “Scenic” Highway 7 “Captain” at the wheel … “Nervous” was the navigator Destination Dogpatch, USA It was like a low-rent Silver Continue reading rj looney | flagging down the devil
January ’51 White smoke boiled from the tailpipe like a July thunderhead 1948 Plymouth Special Deluxe parted an icy puddle placed by God in red clay and gravel yellow stained fingers steadied the wheel Hill people looked out between the Continue reading rj looney | 3 poems