City nights. the flesh of the moon is a thin slice of apple: browning
poems by DS Maolalai
A cabin fire. from the window, behind curtains, rain cracks like logs in a cabin-grate
poems by DS Maolalai
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 […]