by Mark Crimmins Davis called him at the beginning of the month to tell him the bad news. “You’re not gonna like this any more than I do, Schultz, but Prez has decided we all need to ask a hundred golden questions a week from now on. I know the…
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No More Love Poems
By Steven Glifford The world goes through a growth spurt during a shower: A jigsaw puzzle of wood and glutinous darkness, swishing elsewhere liquidly, owns a roofless heart, a reflected candelabra without an originator. Legions leap eons with subtle intensity. Black fire pulls back to an underground city of the…