The Last Cup by Michael South

Gray trays upon gray trays are stacked one on another, each imprisoning a six by six brigade of brown plastic cups waiting to be…

Unspoken Profundities of the Universe by Michael South

It has never been said / That shouting at yellow balls / Bouncing off Saturn’s rings / Could make one feel incontinent / Especially…

My Parisian Sidwalk by Michael South

Washed in a desert’s night rain / Prison lights impersonate themselves / Mirrored on an incarcerated sidewalk / Repainting gray fences and huddled pigeons…
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