Even when Death inhabits a poem, he does not own it. He is a squatter. In fact, Death owns nothing. – Todd Moore
OPEN LETTER TO MY VALUED CUSTOMERS My Esteemed Air BnB Guest: This is not a goddamned luxury hotel. I’m not going to bring you a pony or a box of quilted Kleenex. Nor will I appear in my pajamas Continue reading Six poems by Leah Mueller
Join without Form ( after fishing at Saint-Maries-de-la-Mer) Let us make love join without form within the folding of the flesh within the shadow of the blush and I will tease the fish will not disturb the water will bring Continue reading Six poems by Leigh Jordan