Poets’ Pick
Featured poets from our staff and the community. Poem courtesy of gwern.net With the autumn sun my birthday comes, and it goes; and the leftover presents’ discarded wrappings remind me of my own fate. Death poems are all just falling blossoms and nonsense: dying is dying Papermachine wrote: What zeal! the wild nights spent burning candles, running up mountains, churning through paper Reply: With such … Continue reading Poets’ Pick
