Trace Estes, managing editor of Alsop Review, lives in the Shadows and likes the view. For thirty-five years, he has been forced to write by a pissed-off demon with a trident. Recent publications include Tilt, WORM #34, kaleidowhirl, Centrifugal Eye and the print anthologies Mind Mutations and Slow Dancing to Invisible Music.
The local tour guide believes in leather boots with wide toes. Sturdy soles. Protein for breakfast.
The young sailor said he would give me a modicum of love if I let him use my body as a harbor.
The ticket seller would prefer to meet the guests outside, order them shortest to tallest, take the most boisterous by the hand.
The skull-like villa lost / in a garden of dreams, / so seem the isle’s cimitero: ...
So here is the brief life / of men: what follows / went before of / that we know / nothing
See more Poetry, Visual Poetry, or Postcard Prose
