Hard Dreams poem.. One night, deep in an uncertain period in my life, I sat in the dark, smoking a cigarette and looking down a narrow alley to the street at a […]
An enriching, gritty awareness of the fullness of a world filled with activity, interaction, defined through multiple lenses and countless surfaces inspired this free verse.
The wheels just come off, sometimes, seen in the right — or wrong frame of mind. The world feels like an incredibly intricate, interlinked pool table. In one such frame of mind, […]
I remember everything… I remember everything I remember everything promise, vow, commitment, engagement Name it Kept every one, no exceptions Afloat in mild night air, seventeen I knew I’d love her for […]
Death Walks a Shit-Scarred Lane was written from memory, mine and/or someone else’s, the brutal reality clear as it came to me.
Memory’s not disposable. Not chunks of plastic floating in the ocean, it is an ocean. David Stone is a New York City based writer whose book titles include 21 Poems and Traveling Without A Passport.
Truths are neither remote nor difficult to find. They lay there in plain sight, sunlight shining down on them, even in the darkest night.
You are un-directing the passage, right? You are non-navigating the ship I feel, in long hysterical drifts that I am on the formless threshold of […]
It’s just that coming home around six a.m. I knew this place was Rome four days after the sacking I imagined the rescue of the children hustled out of a crashing courtyard […]
Our guests had gone home, hours ago. Dishes done, drying on the rack, you lounged in one of our old chairs, reading God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater. A lamp hung a lemon […]