Poems from Finch Ardon
It’s a warm October night, and I’m writing again.
I sit in a call with the guy I call my best friend,
and I am writing about the both of...
‘Podunk Towns’ have always struck me as
comfortable places to live.
They appear on roadtrips, on worn down roads
with a gas station at the...
Poems about dinner at seven,
and baths at three in the morning.
Poems about faith at midnight,
and rampaging nights on the town.
About...
It’s open mic night at the bar, and
there are twenty poets performing.
The poets meet in the back alley
to discuss what they write about...
i’m so worried i won’t be me
when they look back at me.
i don’t talk as much as i used to.
do they miss the noise, or do
they miss the...