Just like a Harlequin romance is Dickens with a lobotomy.
It’s still the printed word, still a way of breaking open pages
and weeping no more for Hemingway or O’Hara or even Tennessee Williams.
HOMESCHOOLING MOTHER OF 5, ALL THINGS DOMESTIC, MY CRAZY LIFE
poems, and the poet who poems them
(Somewhat) Daily News from the World of Literary Nonfiction
It's always about writing...
Author of Angels & Adultery
Freelance Creative Professional
Writing about reading
Writer * Reader * Editor
The website of fiction writer Anthony Martin
The Year of Living Deeply
Corey Mesler
polyaesthetically being in the world...
Just another WordPress.com site
(The poetry blog of Grant Clauser)
Just another WordPress.com site
a roominghouse for the servants of the duende
.curious.
Yes. I feel guilty sharing just three lines when this poem just builds and builds.