Sometimes a poem begins with a lie
stacked-up knee-length high, atop
boxes of truth
My voice, your voice:
a derelict of love cuddled to sleep
by the ...
By Richie Maccs
Tell me when it gets dark
I want to go outside and play
With crickets in the owlish night;
Skin foxes under the weeping moon.
Raptors are...
By Richie Maccs
Their bones dance in the wind,
skulls rolling haltingly in the dust
to rest a kilometer away in dry river beds,
amidst piles of rot and so...
Looking at the world through the eyes of a little boy,
I walk through twisted paths of imagination;
Switch power on and walk to Farm Town
With 20 coins; ...