Summer 2009

Table of Contents - Vol. V, No. 2


Poetry    Essays    Translations    Fiction   

Erik Richardson



maimed, crippled poems lie in the dark
behind bookshelves or crushed beneath
the shuffling tread of days

I remember wrapping the bones
with pieces of flesh peeled and ragged
still incomplete

the stench of the dead
must be covered up, hidden, buried
under cracks in the surface

ghosts rise at midnight some nights
my scars start to itch, voices whisper
I will come undone


© Erik Richardson



Poetry    Essays    Translations    Fiction   

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