by Lisa M. Gott Heavy clouds creep acrossforgotten lands — a storm is coming,blowing the tumble weedsof my own destructionacross the never-ending fieldsof a place once called home. Parched, the soil cries out,O, clouds, rain down on me,wash away this decay so that blades of glory may rise up and reachtoward possibility. Blackness circles — a…
by The Poet Darkling Today was one of those days; one of those days when you realize you shouldn’t’ve waited; you shouldn’t wait; when you discover places people call “Climax;” “Crapstone;” “Cut and Shoot;” “‘Possum Kingdom;” “Rest and Be Thankful;” when you learn these places could quite possibly be flooded…or that they might be heavenly oaseshaving never known disaster,and you might neverhave knownor caredeitherway,but…