Poetry

Your aproned Nanny wiped a speckled formica table near clean of its top— delivered meat and potato salvation with doting...

Morning Light Claire Doll Sometimes, I think the sun rises just because it loves the color of a pink-lemonade sky...

Through the Gate, to the Heart Stephen McGinley ‏‏‎ ‎ Mastering technicity avails me not; Enfeebling sterility, with thumbs all...