The first art
Was not art,
Rather, a color line shot through the dark,
No more expression
Than a plea for explanation.
The grandest monuments
And greatest terrible wars
Were all done for the sake
Of a loving God,
For a ready answer,
An easy mistake.
___
The featured image accompanying this poem, entitled ‘Check Mate’, have been used with the permission of artist Patricio Betteo.
She cornered herself against the shoulders of two meeting walls and wrote her screams into the plaster. The sun was a blade against her skin
I miss your coffee-covered breath, Early in the morning. It made me hungrier than death For a thrill without a warning. I miss your sweet
2016 I stood in my kitchen, hands slightly palsied as I poured myself a glass of water from the sink. I emptied the packet of
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