You put me right back on "The Wild Hill" somewhere in Germany where my brothers and I attempted to go sledding for my 12th birthday. We nearly killed ourselves flying down the icy "hill" (a mountain by American standards) and they almost didn't find me after the sled threw me in the fast flakes falling across the crystal crusted snow. A wonderful poem!!!
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
Each person is but a grain of sand resting beside the sea. This thought sets the tone for Jill Eisnaugle’s latest poetry collection, Beside Still Waters.
Excellent!
TRASK
EDL
Love Tinka