The poems have been arriving like tiny drips from an old, creaky faucet. I hear their sounds but often find myself without enough time to listen. So, I do my best to ink them into whatever book I am reading. Sometimes, if paper is not around, I use the skin of my wrist or hand. Time is like this faraway land that I know exists, but have a difficult time finding.
But one of these poems, inked on paper, marinated in time, made its way toward publication.
Thank you to Crab Fat Review (love this name for a journal!) for believing in my words and existing as a space for writers to write for. Check out my work and the work of other excellent writers!
CRAB FAT REVIEW (pages 4-5)