New Native Nation Poetry by Fishguy

Stuck in someone else's frames? break free!

Poetry by Fishguy (M. Solomon)



by Fishguy (M. Solomon)

In early morning,
Still hazy in low places,
Tense anticipation
Marks arrival of our quarry.




by Fishguy (M. Solomon)

The smell of small cooking from luckier houses
Is cruel to the maimed cat
Hiding in carpenters shavings
From two small boys armed with sticks,
Who, born of human parents,
Cry when locked in the dark.


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