Neapolitan Major Muscles pull into lumps hard as burls. When knots release, when fingers remember their positions, the frets won’t let me rest. Emery shuffle on callouses erodes what once was hard and numb…
POEM STARTER 1009 If you insist on pretending to be someone else, then you’ll never know who you really are. AWARD WINNING POET Her poetry: technical mathematical formula perfection without a trace of…
Xenotaph’s Letter To Epistolary Stop trying to sever “pomp” from “psychopomp”, Little Legba– Cut your tongue loose and flood your mouth with nightengales make peace with your angles: It’s not about what silverback skriker…