On:

in the beginning, there was a river and an old man in a rowboat fishing the hazel water for coins and feathers and things and there was you, in the silt, all twisted up in soda rings with the hook burrowed deep in the red flesh of your foot.  soContinue Reading

On:

the aching snowflakes cling like cold butterflies to the black fingers of dark barren trees reaching upward to the storm-driven sky with no recourse but to bear  the onslaught of the storm and the wind’s winter teeth… a tempest. Lynette G. Esposito, MA Rutgers, has been published in Poetry Quarterly,Continue Reading

On:

The soul of each moment is alive. A living voice, a broken down song. Like an abandoned car in an alleyway, from another life you’ve lived. Within another’s ghost towns. *** “The most beautiful thing about you, is that you’re strong enough to be vulnerable.” (Fuck you). “The ugliest thingContinue Reading

On:

after Karin Gottshall lake superior whispered me into existence, from dream to bodily dream. my body was never meant to be so far from the water. but so it goes. summer of 1997, a year early and a little extra change. my mother was round with life, my father ripeContinue Reading