Walking into my poem she sat like a metaphor on hunger, her child slung on her......

Six months old, propped up against a white sheet, wide-eyed and bewildered, a tiny refugee in......

Fecking Nickle Souza, what a fecking loser, never met a woman he didn’t try to abuse-a.......

In the old days,every novel carried the same plots and characters—you could open any pageand read......

At what point did we replace books with screens? Sometimes, I question myself. A book face......

a man stood in the mostwell understood stance.Waiting – maybe.for someone? on someone? right palm perchedon......

Wrenched from sleepin sweat-stained sheets,hair unspooling a messof ribboned dreams— how cliché to writeof restless nights,heart......

Sad like blinking traffic lightsat dusk staring at a November crossing like the dotted grin of......

We are terrified rabbits,Falling into whiteness (I)So, phone the greying fire tendersput out the remnants of......

Anybody who has dealt with illness or death in the family would have probably encountered the......