ghosts

I am not sure this is entirely legible. Here's a translation:

yesterday our ship found the haunting
no sky at the top of a swell
and no sun
but prisoners
slumped on the sea's wake
legs smeared green with old ocean
breathing work chants
coats rusty with salt spray
eyes red & mad angry & broken
our blood was ice
perhaps we are not yet them

thaw

I wonder how different the subject matter of these poems would be if Poetry Month was in, say, August instead of April?

bittersweet symphony

awww

It's been a long couple of days. I promise to get back on the RePo train tomorrow! In the meantime, another guest post by the ever-Amazing D.

wander

double trouble

Not one, but two guest posts today: one from Robot J and one from the Amazing D. Lucky us!

First, Robot J:

And now, the Amazing D:

don't mess