Drivers: A Negative Inversion Poem to “Passengers”

Pluto will implode like a gall bladder in its moons, the light flips to water and the water to a nameless name, There will never be anyone driving the motorcycle through these one-ways strewn with broken glass among blathering men hating their children, never a quick alphabet of sun speaking of lingering and surviving, never … Continue reading Drivers: A Negative Inversion Poem to “Passengers”