poems by DS Maolalai
Warmth. the penny-pay laundry is swampland in summer, so close and boiled over
e-revista EgoPHobia - ISSN 1584-6210
Warmth. the penny-pay laundry is swampland in summer, so close and boiled over
City nights. the flesh of the moon is a thin slice of apple: browning
A cabin fire. from the window, behind curtains, rain cracks like logs in a cabin-grate
Our industrial roots we come from two lines of long-feuding families and I hope we don’t end up ending up the same way. it seems like every generation of ours has some minor squabble over god know what; land or parentage or just plain blood mentality. our mothers side I guess can be […]