Photo by Cat Gwynn
“With my last dying breath, I will let out a sound; a seed of a love song growing under the tongue, sprouting into a howl, rising from my lips and into night, to halo the wild forever moon.”
Rich Ferguson
The Juice Bar
poetry squeezed by L.K. Thayer
You pull diamonds & precious jewels from your throat and string them into magic. You are a treasure Rich. Thank you. – Lisa