Even when Death inhabits a poem, he does not own it. He is a squatter. In fact, Death owns nothing. – Todd Moore
King of the Witches The marksman senses the time is right. Bulls charge with lightbeam horns through a crossroads game and try barely to miss each other; with a bullet I could panic this long line of bulls into jagged Continue reading King of the Witches by Jeff Bagato
A New Neighbor over the Fence I understand what you mean when you say you’re alone and hope someone rings your bell day or night but that’s not the case with me. You say you’d be happy to see a Continue reading A New Neighbor over the Fence by Donal Mahoney