Saturday, July 4, 2015

"And I knew her soul wasn't something to take lightly. In a world where very little truth existed, her soul was a pariah standing alone burning like a wildfire in my bones - a flaming crescent across paddle midnight skies."

-Christopher Poindexter. 

Letter From an Old Poet

 I Day two thousand  one hundred and ninety-one. Our little blue marble has made one modest revolution  around our honey-sweet sun  si...