Number 7 Train’s smoke-sounds faraway, Bellows from the heater, a draft of air, Cold floor, static electricity on a sweater. Winter’s birthing Rare, obscene and mother-naked. To reach you … more →
Best PoemJocko wrote 3 months ago: Does anyone remember watching TV on Sunday mornings seeing ads for plastics and how they are going … more →
krkbaker wrote 7 months ago: You woke me last night when you reached for me. I never felt your touch, I just felt you reaching … more →
Best Poem wrote 8 months ago: Number 7 Train’s smoke-sounds faraway, Bellows from the heater, a draft of air, Cold floor, st … more →