barefaced life

A morbid longing has been compelling me to plumb the depth of marshes, and morass settled in the sand of time. A glimpse of the lass eking out living under the corrugated tin roof. That seamstress worsted by despair whose husband lives in another town, with another woman. Presumably, she is trying to keep theContinue reading “barefaced life”

begins with another ampersand

The heart of mushroom towns Like the one we sojourn, is nearly grime Men who are justly and timely ashamed frown Upon gravels when they have passed their prime They get a glimpse of women’s cleavage Only when they bend over to pick up those gravels From gloomy passages From where women emerge to satiateContinue reading “begins with another ampersand”