Poem by A.M. Gwynn
Minutiae I. A murder of crows gathers on the porch rails gossiping. Their conversation drags a dark wind across my heart. I don’t trust that crowd. They always know when there will be a death in the house. ...
Read MorePosted by PrachyaReview | Aug 25, 2018 | Poetry |
Minutiae I. A murder of crows gathers on the porch rails gossiping. Their conversation drags a dark wind across my heart. I don’t trust that crowd. They always know when there will be a death in the house. ...
Read MorePosted by PrachyaReview | Aug 25, 2018 | Poetry |
Dandelion Fingers Your hands remind me of magic fountains Tucked away in the corner Of a forgotten tourist town. Civilization has succumbed To the outgrowth of wilderness here. Ornaments of untamed creepers Have locked...
Read MorePosted by PrachyaReview | Aug 25, 2018 | Poetry |
Harrowing Tale of a Tale Harrower Breaking clods of stories, architecting blue prints of the amorphous, dream shaped capsules plopping down like pills in beer bottles. I am engaged in the blue-eyed barrier, red...
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