Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Poets.
Sometimes, My gOd Is Death
My gOd doesn't care about the color of my skin or how many days its been since I've washed it. My gOd doesn't care if I capitalize their name, and yes, their preferred pronoun is "they". My gOd is more progressive than your favorite politician and I wish that statement held more weight. I have to pray for my gOd to leave, not to stay. I pray for space instead of signs. My gOd does not flood worlds, only countries and states. I don't presume them to be fair and they don't expect to delude me into thinking otherwise.
By Ricky R.R.8 years ago in Poets
Upon the Banks
Intoxicated by the sun, the path seems cheery. The arms of the trees sway to a melody whispered by a secretive breeze. Deep and earthy, the musk of decaying leaves, unbroken by the soil, clings to the warm air. Tangled green beckons deeper into a calming chaos.
By Kevin McGuire8 years ago in Poets
