On Solitude What can only be a perfect phrase, hurried on the back of a receipt, subsequently caught in the wind & flown forever away. Your eyes are not what they were, imperfect & especially in the morning before gravity once more proves us … Read on blog or Reader Heavy Feather Review Read on blog or Reader Three Original Prose Poems by Michael Robins By Heavy Feather on July 3, 2024 On Solitude What can only be a perfect phrase, hurried on the back of a receipt, subsequently caught in the wind & flown forever away. Your eyes are not what they were, imperfect & especially in the morning before gravity once more proves us little. First to sit in the reglazed tub, its waters rise […] Continue reading Comment You can also reply to this email to leave a comment.

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