we call them primitive,
those original beasts in human
form, and they too mirrored the skies
with their imagination, hoping
for visitors from space.
their ancient rituals remembered
other visits, other gods;
the whirling disks came down before
and spread fire across the land,
their angel voices leaving
words and symbols
carved in caves, left behind
as guidance from the stars.
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
Dear readers, this is my third book of poems, and inside are a special collection of what have turned out to be not only MY personal favorites, but also the favorites of many of YOU. Some of these have never been available in print before...
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