Aiden Davies pushed against the turnstile at the train station on his way to the community center. He’s a volunteer. He doesn’t work anymore.
Eyes glazed, mic in handSniffing blood, not proof or factRatings rise from dead Author’s Notes: This is a satirical jab…
Author’s Notes: Poetic form: 2-4-6-8 This poem is the first part of a trilogy exploring the American experiment—its founding ideals,…
A warming glow, the candles knowTheir number counts the yearsYour loving light still holds the nightThe winding path still clear…