Featured Poetry

The Lovers

click to enlarge

Thirty feet tall.
Each of them a house
Of love.

Pale pachyderm legs
Hold fast to fickle Earth
While crooked bones rise like prayers
That ache for Heaven.

Flush, ablush,
She cranes to the moon,
And he kisses her neck
Right along the trench
That bubbles with her rising sap.

Companion Art: “The Lovers,” adapted by John Farley. Original image

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