Cavegirl

I see him every day.  He comes to the park and sits on a metal bench.  He eats there and reads something.  Behind him are trees. When he is gone, I find what he has thrown away.  They are wrappers and newspapers.  I take them back, and at night, I smell them. Today he is…

Burst – Saladin

    Saladin   Dear Saladin. I am not young anymore. I am not your revolution spirit. Not the thrust of your steel. Nor the burning of your star. I receive your letters still. Words are undimmed. A grave red-handed battle Is what you propose. A sorcery that makes the spite To which we are…