The Pot
Smoothness without shine, thick metal without luster, cast iron blackness, holding a measured amount, of watery morass; mixed throughout, tossed, with thinly spread morsels, bits...
I Don’t Blame You
I don’t blame you for letting go my hand. Maybe I didn’t hold on tightly enough, or whisper in your ear “I love you”. I...
Before My Eyes You Disappear
Before my eyes you disappear, the body, the figure, the outline that defines. A physical presence no more. Will you resurface in a thousand years?...
Shortypman: Words and Photos in paperback
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