i still (Remove filter)
waxing (12/22/2023)
I can feel the moon filling
rising in my chest,
my throat
a grip:
a commanding brand
blinding and hot
pressing down on my chest
while my legs buck
on an operating table somewhere
then sated
by the cooling hiss
of oxygen
(or at least
that's what they told me
it was)
"You're not yourself, Paul"
a much shorter name than mine
and a bone saw plain
some numbing tune by th...
Saturday 23rd December 2023 2:19 pm
Recent Comments
Hugh on And then sadly, there was one-less!
34 minutes ago
John Coopey on I Am Out of Fashion
36 minutes ago
Bethany Sallis on And then sadly, there was one-less!
1 hour ago
Bethany Sallis on Out of our mortal hands
1 hour ago
Trevor Breedon on Celebrating nature, mourning lost landscape: England’s ‘awkward’ poet John Clare
1 hour ago
David RL Moore on Of what remains
1 hour ago
Russell Jacklin on Celebrating nature, mourning lost landscape: England’s ‘awkward’ poet John Clare
1 hour ago
Greg Freeman on Don't, Mowgli
2 hours ago
Mike Horsfall on And then sadly, there was one-less!
9 hours ago
John Marks on INFANT MORTALITY
10 hours ago