A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature: over 400,000 monthly users
they would ask how it felt
“to be a kike, to taste a baby’s
blood, to kill a savior?”
In its color alone,
my beard is the sun falling upon the evening
and some days
it is chaffing brambles, poison
sumac, creeping red vines everywhere.
in crappie after crappie,
laughing at their name
and the ease at which
they are hooked
hard pretzels curved to the shape
of life’s perilous twists
Enter your email address to follow Vox Populi and receive new posts by email.
Enter email address.
Blog at WordPress.com.