Judson Mitcham: Poison
But it’s too late now. We are riding in his car,
and he’s three sheets to the nuclear wind,
he’s roaring drunk on the con that he ran
to put us where we are
April 17, 2025 · 17 Comments
Sandy Solomon: Poison
The red-faced guard, his scant hair pressed like a wish against his boney pate, sat uniformed at the library gate sternly blocking the un-elect like me. After just a … Continue reading
May 29, 2018 · Leave a comment
