Issue
#1

January
2009

 

a poem by David McLean

 

the sky folds

the sky folds night over us
like a lump in a devil's sticky
bed, replete with sheeted
meaning and hurtful dreams
of when god was,

for he is forgotten now,
though mostly by believers--
i have always believed in nothing
yet still i miss him

© David McLean


 All poems © by their respective authors.   Otherwise, site content © 2008, 2009 by Jack T. Marlowe