Your Night with the Smell of Burning Chrome •ø• In memories brought back by the smell of burning chrome— ghostly wisps only there in your knowing of what’s to come— you feel the non-weight of your future children’s hallowed hands upon you forehead. They live in a place called Neomantis, and you know it to… Read more.
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A continuation of the Searching O. Hunt poetry series, in which we find ourselves shuttled back and forth in time and space from Portland, Oregon to Boise, Idaho and back again, again.
Searching O. Hunt poem by K. Shawn Edgar