The handles of Papa's tools were deep brown with age but where Papa's hands had grasped they were almost gold. The wearing of work and time smoothed them and shined them where each of his fingers held, imparting a gift left gilded by Papa's touch.
David Hightower’s lyrically expansive meditation on the whims of fate and the unpredictability of the human condition fill the pages of THE HANGING MAN DREAMS with thrilling music and mesmerizing imagery. Hightower’s richly infused voice echoes the e
This book represents a thirty-day period of my poetry journal. Each poem addresses
the dominant thoughts occupying my mind during the early morning hours of a given
day.
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Ty, Dani