Poetry: Michael Brownstein
They could not bury them fast enough,
the rain thick and slippery, the mud a river,
and in the morning’s blue sky, a whip of cloud,
pink haze, great green vines hugging short trees to strangle
August 28, 2012
Black Jesus
An impulse as irresistible as in the acorn to germinate is in the soul of the prophet to speak. —Ralph Waldo Emerson. Bobby Barrow couldn’t seem to get the chicken and rice on his fork fast enough, as he shoveled it into his mouth much like he had been shoveling dirt
August 17, 2012 · 10 Comments
The Orris: A Cultural Journal 