by L.M. Browning, an except from Drive Through the Night The patterns of the trauma align across the memories of our mind —inescapable—a blackhole of being. 8,947 miles later, I know now why you refuse the say the names of those dead-to-you-yet-still-breathing...
by L.M. Browning, except from Drive Through the Night Ride this life hard —barebacked, bone-shaken. Wrap your legs tight —thighs around her rib cage, pounding. Take hold in the rush —fingers tangled in her mane, entwined. Don’t look back,...
Drive Through the Night | A Poem by L.M. Browning, from Drive Through the Night If we kept moving —blind in the blur of mileage mounting— we might outrun the sun and not see the sight awaiting in the bare daylight that we were the source of...
The Technicolor Burning Bush | A Poem by L.M. Browning, from Drive Through the Night In the misty morning beyond murky mirages I hear the voice of god in the hum of the neon sign at the rest stop where the caravan of displaced desperadoes and expats post-up for...
Lobo | A Poem by L.M. Browning, an except from Drive Through the Night Drive through the night lost in the miles the lone wayfarer ever in motion. Be gentle long night I don’t belong here. Thrown to the wolves I shifted nocturnal. Arced up,...
The Recurring Dream | A Poem by L.M. Browning, from a working collection In a land beyond the pervading dark, in a state beyond the fever-pitch, in a dialog beyond the finding of blame, I’m hoping to find you and build a home where we can live the life we...
