Oftentimes I wake with Don’t Forget written on the back of my hand in black ink. I never remember what— Maybe the dead headlight, or car oil rotting in its pipe. Perhaps, a reminder to…
Prose, Poetry, and Art since 1956
Oftentimes I wake with Don’t Forget written on the back of my hand in black ink. I never remember what— Maybe the dead headlight, or car oil rotting in its pipe. Perhaps, a reminder to…