Tagged: poem 97


Father’s Day ’13

Haibun The crescendos of a jazz trumpeter blend with the plucked strings of a stand-up bass and the percussion of drums. The trio plays on as we snack on crackers and cheese, our backs...

Spoken Word, race poem 0

Divisive Misnomer

Spoken Word   In a race, do you look left or right? Do you look up to mark your distance From the sun on the ground to where you are? Does the glare spurn...