writer

There’s the somewhat dilapidated apartments, greyspeckle aggregate, each with a car a quarter century old sat outside proud as a …

The maw of the old mineshaft reminded meof the stove-in mouthof an end-of-the-line lush,left gaping there glistening by bored kids, …

You cling to my finger like a newborn.The same weight that clogged your engines and draggedyou down to drown now …