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With his hand, he sees through walls: from the street,
From Schonbran park, girls go to rest in his house.
They sleep off parents’ beatings. They eat.
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I wrote this piece after I told the originator of the youtube video "Mieders Alpine Coaster" by David Jellis how I felt watching it.
I admitted I was a voyeur not a participant, but that his video fascinated me to the point that I needed to write ab
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I'm not sure if this is breaking the rules of Fictionaut, but here's a trailer of a poetry tour of Europe I did earlier this year. We hope to break it down into webisodes soon enough to highlight the brilliant readings, brilliant local poets and such that you can find not…
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Cold smoke from the crater
Breathes on our eyelashes;
The abysmal emptiness held
Its breath just once.
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