Tag Archives: by Nick Green

A Novel, by Nick Green

The book is bound. The spine is riveted with glue. The glue is not marrow, or flour, but the calcium of grief. At first, the spine begins to fray – persecuted by well-read tears. Now is the time of semper: … Continue reading

Posted in 2020 Poetry, new poetry, poet, poetry, Poetry Festival, Uncategorized | Tagged , , | Leave a comment