Even when Death inhabits a poem, he does not own it. He is a squatter. In fact, Death owns nothing. – Todd Moore
the worst kind of war the people in their sickness have become “too clever” for poets — d.a.levy there is this thing that exists, a disdainful rift of pure hatred between academic poets and street poets between people and all Continue reading the worst kind of war by Tohm Bakelas
Moab As I choke on Moab heat cooked out of my skull ravens circle the sky lizards scour the earth and cacti wave in the wind As I wander red rock the shade offers no relief I am a foreigner Continue reading Moab & Two other new poems by Tohm Bakelas
The Suicide of Katelyn Davis as unfamiliar cars drive by and neighborhood dogs bark and the sun sets into darkness a wounded fruit drapes like a silhouette an apparition dressed in child’s clothes inside families are preparing dinner the phone Continue reading The Suicide of Katelyn Davis & Four other new poems by Tohm Bakelas