How does this sound for the prologue of my new book?
She’s thought about it
way too long
anger simmering
like pasta writhing
in boiling water,
only she doesn’t soften.
Lingering in the old pot
as she plots and
plans her escape.
The final details
appearing as foam
on a briny bank.
One last thing
before she departs
into the unknown
a card
to a loved one
with
unconditional
instructions.
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Fresh pine scent captures holiday spirit. Santa’s little helpers burn clean fuel. Christmas cheer expires on December 26th. Cards and let...
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***A prose poem written in pidgin english Da gross cockroach militia stays booming in da plumbing in da face of mass killings in Kaneohe ...
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In Greece there’s a place called Meteora where they sent the bothersome ones, too pretty and smart to live in the rural villages. Co...
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