“Granma died,
my ex tried
suicide,”
you confide
in me, your
credabil-
ity nil
for one more
dark excuse
is no use.
Let’s settle
our bill til
there’s no more
last, last straw.
Damian Robin is a journalist and poet living in England.
Featured Image by Vaclav Zapadlik
Coastal Shingle There, totem-stacked in paratactic charm, The words cascade: Hay.Shavings.Piglets.Straw. I had not sought a sign from Salt Marsh...
. You Do You God’s willing to let you do you despite the fact it pains Him to since you’ll go where...
Thank you, Margaret. It's only 14 lines, which cannot cover all the tactics. An earlier draft included honey traps, where…
Thank you, Cynthia. It's a weird irony that these professors are probably going after the Founding Fathers for owning slaves…
Remember in the 70s when the Navy let men grow beards? They looked like civilians in Halloween costumes. Just another…
The first time I read this wondrous ballad, the cadence swept me along like soldiers on a quick march. I…
Both of these are wonderful period-pieces from an era many have sadly forgotten. I admire your narrator in "Florence Foster…
