Poem: “Modern Life or Modern Death?”
They stare at Windows all the livelong day, Yet breathe in no fresh air. Despite new means of contact now in play, Communication’s rare. They…
Fiction and Poetry
Poem: “The English Tongue Today”
Once upon a time the English tongue, Used to be like rhythmic music sung. What has happened to this speech today? Tortured it has been…
Pied Noir
¶ When Venner shot himself Jean and I went to see Papa because we knew he’d be a wreck. When we made it to the house…