If you’re a book lover, you’ve probably encountered narrative poetry at some point. Maybe you read The Waste Land in high school
More
Summer day, late afternoon, Crazy Suzanne appears at my door. “Are my tits getting bigger?” she wonders, raising her shirt up to
More
by David Stone We are still in the car, pushing through heavy, drifted snow. We will always be in that car. It
More
Death Walks a Shit-Scarred Lane was written from memory, mine and/or someone else’s, the brutal reality clear as it came to me.
More