Click on a cover to be taken to the product details for that title. Recent titles include Back Road. By Jim Burrows, Why We Go by Twos. By Linda Stern, and The Best of the Raintown Review.

This content is password protected. Enter your password to view comments. There is a radiant star. Blazing in all of its agony. That you never knew existed. As the whirling dervish rotates.

The shock of recognition, triggered by. An old man coughing, rattled the Acela. Him, provoke an incident, or, worse,. Brother wearing academic cords,. A knotted scarf, Italian slipper shoes.

Where poetry is roared like the sceptre of a king. May 12, 2011 in Poetry. Finally the pot boils over, foaming thin;. The ceiling blurs, falls fast, a paper plane is hurled. From mountaintop, delirious, spinning, and the world. Splits open like a plastic bag, and truth pours in. September 8, 2010 in Poetry. The arrows of rain are silver-shafted, fletched in grey. Each thunderhead drifting across the hem of the day.

Why did that white jerk have it out for her anyway? July 24, 2009. Come, I will sing you a song of redemption,. Your ebony black hair will sway with the tune. And the sad memories will fall off. And settle on your slender shoulders, but for a while,. We will indulge in merriment anyway. I shall depart when gray matter.

You gonna eat that? In first reading the title of this blog, one might think that I am obese. She sat across from him at their Thursday evening dinner, eyes darting up at him then down at her plate repeatedly back and forth, You going to eat that last piece of broccoli? Not looking up from his plate, he responded, Ya, I had planned on it.

Monday, December 03, 2012. Yes I know this is a computer game, one of the things that serves as distractions from the real journey. Islam defines my faith but I probably cannot be categorised. Am I a fundementalist Muslim, a liberal Muslim, a universalist or an ignorant Muslim? To live the life intended for us? Links to this post. Sunday, September 23, 2012. A vague promise by one party say Mr A, would .

The watcher and the watched. Memories of my ghost sista. The dead are never satisfied. Posted by ch3mical r3nt boy. Asymp; Comments Off on mad sea. There is always more to love. For me it is the clawed glove. Piercing fish-flesh, feeling you wriggle, bent.