Posted by PrachyaReview | May 1, 2019 | Poetry |
Hunting season comes to Facebook So much depends on a dead deer with a bloody mouth dumped in a wheelbarrow beside a grinning boy in orange. He is quickly covered in adulation and balloons. Nothing – fighting fires in...
Read MorePosted by PrachyaReview | May 1, 2019 | Poetry |
Video et Taceo (for Anne Boleyn) Listen Anne. The light is falling silent in the talons of time, There, in a pulpit of imagined sin, In the eyelid of the stars you are silent. Silent, the blood-heat. Silent, the falconry...
Read MorePosted by PrachyaReview | May 1, 2019 | Poetry |
How It Feels to Have A Sexual Predator on the Supreme Court When I hear about a Great White Shark attacking someone on Cape Cod My first thought is always what did he do to provoke the shark? Is this why so many people’s first...
Read MorePosted by PrachyaReview | May 1, 2019 | Poetry |
Airborne After school and homework–pencils, paper –kiting until supper-time, and after. Newspaper and sticks and mucilage, or tape in a heavy wind. I send Sunday comics into aerospace. Hank Aaron, classified...
Read MorePosted by PrachyaReview | May 1, 2019 | Poetry |
The Goddess of Femininity We wake to the day, searching the sky for beauty, rays of possibilities— above the world drowning in impossibilities. As we redecorate the sky and our surroundings, to see the limitless seeds of...
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