The menace of the night was closing in.We, unsuspecting victims, fell into it,as into a mass grave lying in wait.The deep dark void surrounded us,wrapping
Category: My poems
It’s a suffocating Thursday in Apriland the clocks are striking eight.Emerging from behind rainbowssunny sycophants gatherwith bells and gavels,clogging the roadside.Simulations, locking eyes,they small-talk and
He carries the paper in his old knarled hand.He looks to the sky, and then to the band,He listens to the music, and then to