Life is solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short. —Hobbes So I know this can’t go on forever. Jamming the sparse feather duster between wines that ought to pay rent beneath an overload of lights and 18 cameras, I start a sweat. I flip on the air conditioner. Boss Man says, use it anytime but if […]
David Remer
Posted inArts & Culture, Poetry









