Published: Mississippi Crow Magazine, Fall 2009. Willow, of a specter’s dream, breathe You fell lightly down the dew covered well Like a broken feather your bones whistle Caught up in the wind of your end You forget why What irony It dispels all that is you Crack against the dry bottom It becomes useless...
Lavish sensations Air devoured Your eyes drip expectation The aroma permeates Stealing every corner of your house It clings to the walls Teasing you with thoughts of mischief So you plead the like Please bruschetta, your favorite Or stuffed mushrooms, maybe chicken parmesan Can we say vegetables and herbs of the freshest sort Are...
