Even when Death inhabits a poem, he does not own it. He is a squatter. In fact, Death owns nothing. – Todd Moore
Early Winter Poem I take refuge in Billie Holiday sipping on a mug of coffee alone in my apartment rain drops playing hide and seek with the windows like lovers with a secret it is peaceful, tranquil here like a Continue reading a.d. winans | early winter poem
Prisoner of Loneliness Loneliness in my heart Billi Holliday in my soul I make myself a hot brandy Toast the ghosts of the past Open the window let a fly out One prisoner here is enough. from Big Hammer No. Continue reading a.d. winans | prisoner of loneliness
A.D. Winans | Photo: Raindog my doctor sees me every six months asks me if I feel suicidal worthless depressed funny question to ask a poet From Big Hammer No. 8, 2005 | Iniquity Press / Vendetta Books. This issue Continue reading a.d. winans | foolish questions