The Wet Sheets — Art by Rob Goldstein

Warning: this piece contains strong language A sliver of glass I leapt from my Father’s eye reflecting a Mother that didn’t exist. Cigarette butts rose to Heaven, thunder formed my torso. Dust blew through an umbilicus and collected to form fingers and lips. Here is my birth: In the ghettos of Charleston my Daddy beat […]

via The Wet Sheets — Art by Rob Goldstein

Please leave a comment what you have to say is important.

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s