bright day
clocks
nuzzled into his breast

LITERARY MAGAZINE
bright day
clocks
nuzzled into his breast
We stand at the door, a threshold between us
Did she ever know there was an ant
outside there’s puzzle pieces
My name is David Obuchowski, and I am the Guest Editor
an egg cracks as the fire crackles on
Living amidst so many words, and having to remember some non-words too, Abe tends to
I have a poem
it is cubist