Even when Death inhabits a poem, he does not own it. He is a squatter. In fact, Death owns nothing. – Todd Moore
nada he’s a junkie issuing a call for help everybody hears but nobody comes what he really wants is just a small amount of junk each day legal and without fear no way not from this alcoholic system nada oh Continue reading Nada by Steve Richmond
in america no one must be more thick skinned than the writer unknown and obscure who spends most of his or her time writing or dreaming about images for poems and lets the hours that could have been spent making Continue reading In America by Steve Richmond