Tripping, spinning, snapping mandibles grip at the turning cylinder githout success, pincers rubbed raw, begin to smell A hundred eyes… Read more Tripping spider dreams
Tag: verse
Race Day
It wasn’t that long ago, you could smell it, coating the breeze in a fine oil varnish It sat on… Read more Race Day
The last day
of summer we spoke, a crack appeared on the wall that spread like a fire up the ceiling where the… Read more The last day
The Better Man…
…would always fold first with a piece of ashphalt sticking out of his left shoulder the right being sacrosanct and… Read more The Better Man…
Tighearnan John Kelly 