The Final Coastline (After the image “Lighthouse at the Edge of the World” by G.G. Silverman) Answers must be there. Somewhere. Weathered. Wary. With insight of pleasure endured, agony relished. But life feels like a stranger’s memory, a blurry-eyed drunk… Continue Reading →
Learning to drink Having learned about sex mostly from my parents’ small stash of pornography, they weren’t much help when it came to drinking. There was rarely alcohol in the house. I had tried alcohol, of course, a swig of… Continue Reading →
Ode to a Comforter Spirits of martyred geese, beautiful honking shitting machines, haunt my dreams on long cold nights envelop me in warmth. ©2017 Kenneth W. Arthur
© 2023 The Timid Poet — Powered by WordPress
Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑