Five new short poems of mine published by 'Fevers of the Mind.'
Time is a river. No sooner is a thing brought to sight than it is swept away. Another thing will take its place, and that too the river will sweep away.
I become a pillar of salt as I stare backward.
If the salt loses its flavor . . . it is then good for nothing but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot by men.
Ron Howard's Hillbilly Elegy: Bad but for different reasons than most critics are giving.