This is another poem about another boy, whose name I can not share, that touched my heart. It is a tense poem, with short, distinct words and sketchy phrases.
I have a red warmth
burned onto my skin,
and a boiling blaze jumping from my heart
to my thighs.
My God, he is beatiful.
My feelings for him haven't dissipated
-- they've hidden
under a dusty rock, in a dark room,
behind the lockers, under the floorboard
of my mind.
Yes it was physical
yearning,
but he has a heart and a mouth that I both adore.
Badass might be his trait,
but romantic and tight he is too.
My little rebel,
why not come back to me?
I may not always have it together,
but you are my ethical hero;
I want us to have something.
Love, come back to me.
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.
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
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