"where are you meeting downtown?"
nobody knows. a deep thumping
through street fog, the vigilante draws
near. broken teeth, fists bloodied against
bodies. it is law now. curfew, friend.
learn it. this is for the blind. or,
at least those who pretend to be
once the sun has set. scales and blades.
Well, it looks like I've majorly lapsed on the poem-a-day habit. Not to worry. I'm taking a short break to finish the Balkey story line....
“What,” the young, scarred and scabbed Scib said, “did Mr. Pin calm him – Bixson-” And Balkey closed the gap as soon as the word left the...
Tell him Coral has finally gone sour and the Pin is as crooked as we all thought,” fryed Balkey and eyed the straight and tall, the...