Kristofer Collins: A Poem for Michael Wurster
The only connection I felt to the mills
was to the children of a generation of flayed men
on unemployment, the storefronts boarded…
November 7, 2019 · Leave a comment
Robert Walicki: If a Tree Falls
A tree falls does anyone care if it makes it into this poem? A poem bone deep and raw, broken into bark and hanging on to the edge of a … Continue reading
February 21, 2019 · 1 Comment
Robert Walicki: Wet
Into those warm, wet fields again and again, where we came, pulled by the blur of light, after the last soccer game in the July dark, we walked off … Continue reading
October 9, 2018 · Leave a comment
Robert Walicki: Afraid
You were afraid they could tell by looking you were that kind of man, because of the dead deer who dove into the front end of your truck head … Continue reading
February 28, 2017 · 5 Comments
