A Kind of Poetry in It
Each day he packs. Takes pictures off the walls, adds the dish that held his morning toast. The crumbs too. One slipper goes into his bag. One stays under the bed.
Each day he packs. Takes pictures off the walls, adds the dish that held his morning toast. The crumbs too. One slipper goes into his bag. One stays under the bed.
“It’s him – I’m sure of it.”
“Lizzie, I think your imagination is working overtime. It’s not him.”
I walk into my parents’ home to pick my mom up for a family gathering, and like most days over the past few weeks, palpable sorrow greets me at the door.
a darkening sky
feeds on a bloodied woman
dawn beckons freedom
An interview with author, Steven Heighton, featuring writing as re-enaction, exploring obsessions, and the night-mind.
While growing up in Spanish Harlem – El Barrio as we knew it during the exhilarating years of the 1970s and 80s – diversity was my monarch, acceptance my culture, and faith my freedom.
Social media has provided writers with an abundance of opportunities. From networking to marketing; it’s now possible for their work to reach thousands of readers, in just a click of a button.
I’m pleased to announce the release of Issue 3 of the Dreamers Magazine. In this issue you’ll find…
A new mother doesn’t need words to pray. Her body is a pulsing prayer in motion. If there’s a part or fiber of her body not engaged in nurturing I don’t know of it.