By Keith Burton i was stretching my legs on the littoralgiving names to the shapes of the cloudsthat swam across the lake’s reflectionwhen trouble came crawling on eight legs. help me across he asked with a period. i knew better; i had an owl’s acuity.no can do, i know you…
by Amy Covel It was Your work You gathered The stone The metal The tools You worked For days For months For years You created Those walls Those floors Those bars And now You live In Your own Prison.
