Bars Bars Bars how it was is half the fun. half the story. the grit underneath nails.  the last bit of meat left on the bone. a clinging of years. yaa the years. softening like plastic. hoarded in narrowing closets in the coldest of spare rooms. mothball mama. all the how it could have beens. crates of apples & pears. flushing green as sickness. … Continue reading Two poems by Momtaza Mehri