I live and work in Chapel Hill, NC with my wife and five kids where I serve as an associate editor for The Kentucky Review. My poems have appeared in over a 100 magazines and my ninth poetry collection, Peddler’s Blues, was just published by Main Street Rag. In the words of Mr. Rexroth, “I am a man of no ambition and few friends.”
One of the prisoners had not seen the stars for 22 years.
-The New York Times
That night, when he walked outside, he thought he was living in memory. A boy, camping, the year before his father died. No tent, but four blankets and a fire. The stars all made of fire. Too far for night warmth. All of them at the edge of where darkness starts and ends.
©2016 Mike James
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