Torsade Literary Space Killing Frost (poem)
Killing Frost Morning on the inside is only glass and curtains A saint might have heard voices He fingers the fly in the ointment and fills a pot With liver-colored beans no stench Like the burning of chili powder and this punishing cheap food And wariness too fine to read He […]
For the Gullible (poem)
For the Gullible Is there nothing on earth, not entertainingly atwist No limit to the pride…your little marvels tucked In caches Rose-colored glasses awfully passé What will you spend your money on, now you have so much There are no paper fortunes left A vast amount of daylight goes to […]
Infinite Fall (poem)
Infinite Fall When a right hand chooses wrong Just this Tick of the clock packed in dry ice Your trigger finger hangs, a tic decides What you’ve done, agreeing with advice What you were a minute past Just that What you are carved on your headstone Name, digitoria of birth and […]