Pure silence is an abandoned theater,
echoing with the screams
of a grindhouse film
nobody remembers.
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See AllAfter Larry Levis’s “Airplanes” I grab a torch and go burn hay bales to a pile, and stare at the glowing remains until cloves grow from...
Across the drought-dried field, vultures perched on hay bales, wings twitching with anticipation as a road-trapped body took its last...
His voice started and stopped with the raindrops on the window. Aimless and hesitant, he gave up, “I can’t seem to express the emptiness...
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