Number Six of the Eleven Calamities
Someone would ask me how I was and I would promptly answer “prose.” You’d look down at the inscription I’d written and somehow it would only say “prose.” Prose… More
Seven Poems by Peter Richards
Blood moon whoever / calls you this lived stupidly / forgets god yearning More
from Bluets
At the bottom of the swimming pool, I watched the white winter light spangle the cloudy blue and I knew together they made God. When I walked into my… More