At 44 By Annmarie Lockhart laps and laps to go around the bend sweat, sun, stride rhythms of breathing and counting and pacing hearts, deaths, tomorrow, the next time, the last time, words, taste, touch always the pulsing push and... Continue Reading →
Transcript By Annmarie Lockhart The Internet never forgets diary, scrapbook, minicam permanent record each impression a wordless oh frozen in a collective consciousness thawed and absorbed, a spring melted snow, muddied and fresh with each hit, view, poke, chat, upload,... Continue Reading →
Poetry Breakfast 