Poetry
The Fallout
by Ann StephensonPoetry
The fallout mustn’t be monitored considering that everything changes hands.
Dead Black Men
by Paul KillebrewPoetry
I won’t die at a party like this, falling over the contortions in my gut or floating over the whirlpool of cups ...
For Beth Ward
by Paul KillebrewPoetry
One of my basic human dilemmas goes something like, Does metaphor contain us, or do we extend ourselves out into it?
