producing poison is to unsettle a soul and then demand it to find an apex in cornerless countries.
to rip its outline with uncaring, serrated words and without touching it. ‘Sorry’ stays bound in throats
like strangers in tight spaces with no handles on why or how they are there. Skin itching forever.
Hi - My thanks goes to Samantha Terrell for publishing this: https://samanthaterrell.weebly.com/shine-poetry-series/sept18-stephen-paul-w...
Entering the metal-walled room felt like passing through to another world - it felt unearthly. High-pitched beeps were inaudible. They...
New poem accepted by Culture Matters: https://culturematters.org.uk/index.php/arts/poetry/item/4595-1978?fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTAAAR0f7Vj...
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