• And In That Republic by Wes Bishop

    And in that republic, they built a machine, a machine of a million names, but one purpose, cruelty. Inflicting pain was a virtue of nettles on bare skin, leaving kindness’s soothing balm treason. It is why I stopped searching this world for guidance, instead pilgriming to myself to find the capitol of compassion.   But…

  • Found: A Letter for the Art of Love and Colors by Paul Michael Whitfield

    Dear, In Safe and Sound,   I write as the crow flies—ashore, on the hard. Something’s happened, my friend. I’m aground, at liberty, and I think you must know. You’re on a run, of course, and a leg from the vanishing angle. There’s nothing so much to say, after all. A sliding pond across the…

José Guadalupe Posada