Riding the Highlands A poem by PD Lyons Riding the HighlandsShe spoke in an accent lost like heat from living thingsbroken snowy things that long winters become around here.The absence of people in her world meant things would not get... Continue Reading →
Mira Gut there are no flowers here but snow. the bay not yet free chunked with ice the white of which exists only against a distant liquid sea. at least the sun visits, comforting, illusion though it is, visions of... Continue Reading →
The Girl Next Door By PD Lyons When I remember Third floor windows Tall white lace sails Summer all running in our veins Her mother in the kitchen Making cool aid and plate full of something Cookie sweet to eat... Continue Reading →
Poetry Breakfast 