Poem: Deep

Deep   Patrick T. Reardon One-Cent runs like two thousand pigs into the deep. He is where the wind starts. Later, he will be buried facedown. The beaver trap snaps. [...]

By |2026-07-17T17:19:22+00:00August 12th, 2026|

Poem: Voice

Voice Patrick T. Reardon .     Hear my voice. Hide me. He underwent translation, like a poem set afire, like a slashed Madonna and Child. Sword tongue and bitter salad. River [...]

By |2026-07-17T17:09:12+00:00August 5th, 2026|
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