Three poems by Gregory Leadbetter
Masts The air is not itself today: it can no longer rest. The last free molecule has just been put to use. Our alpha-waves are butterfly-brained. Sleep, in any normal sense, has not been possible here for months. I carry an egg for safety now. I came too close the other day: it cooked in my pocket, good enough to eat. (previously published in … Continue reading Three poems by Gregory Leadbetter