Antlers
by Russell Evatt I found a head in the dirt, eyes open, covered in sand. But no flies and no blood. I should say it was winter, and this the
[ When I speak of death, I do not mean the one ]
by Russell Evatt When I speak of death, I do not mean the one in the ground there, to whose funeral I wore a red shirt because I chose not to
Biting Concern
by Russell Evatt I had a notion today that it feels terrific to die. Finally, that’s over. From the park bench I heard the refined static of