3 POEMS – John D Robinson
NIGHT GENTLE Stood in the doorway, framed in dim lighting, the night, gentle with Lester Young blowing like a stoned hummingbird, she stood, crying, quietly, not in sadness, she stood in the doorway and I wished that I was a painter or composer, she looked up, at me, her face wet with our kind of […]
Read more "3 POEMS – John D Robinson"