Socra Mama

When we've come to owing and not owing, Then we've clearly lost our place. We would do well to go back a few pages, To, at least,...

Stark beauty of a dark silhouette, Winter tree, a bare naked lady Against a pale, colorless, morning sky, She sighs. Many have tried to ...

To you who live in Loftyville: You don't understand and never will How one can speak in rhyme, How magic over time Is handed down T...

In the wind, Half mast I blow, For someone has been lost at sea. There used to be some color to me, But it is long gone, too. My reds, ...

Sunday Tart The King of Hearts has had his share of tarts and ham. Parts of him would like to go away, Fake his own death and live like ...

I look up to thee, Oh Moon! You are out today, yea, verily, This very afternoon, And I with thee, this diurnal, Walking and penning, In...

Social media is a waste paper menagerie, A sewer with collections of toilet paper That have reformed in the gray water And resemble stran...