Hills will tell you that you hate running, but hills lie.

Down the mountain I roll. I wait in the corner. She sits down next to me.

Nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands. OR SCREAM IN ALL CAPS. Or if you need a prompt you can check out one of the past prompts, like the Shadorma. The bar is open just for you.

Helen Kay Chapbook Prize Guidelines. Grassic Short Novel Prize Guidelines. James De Monte, Kailen Nourse, Aaron Stypes, Patti Sullivan, Anthony Mohr. Poetry fiction non-fiction memoir creative. 8203;Subscribe to Evening Street Review. A book of poetry,.

I hope those of you in the valley will come to my free poetry reading this Monday,. Meanwhile, here is a Halloween poem for you all. As they age, old vampires start to soften. They seek out fewer victims. Even then, they steer. Toward the sick, the dying. Delaying in their coffins well past moonrise. And there, they pause to weep. Shrinks to a flimsy craving.

Words are quite important to me. Banging my head against a brick wall. An endless glut of profanity builds within. Nonsense, wrong tense, grammar and vague comment. Rubbish reason, essay treason and fragile talent broken. I will, definitely, persevere.

WoRdS aRe My DrUg Of ChOiCe. Tuesday, August 6, 2013. Rick Dale, author of The Beat Handbook. Tuesday, May 21, 2013. Looming just out of consciousness. Drove to the nearest cemetery. Lay down in the grass atop John Siemens. Never heard of him before. He was mortal like me. Climbed up and sat on his headstone.

Wednesday, August 12, 2015.