by Richie Smith | Apr 12, 2020 | Covid-19, Poetry
A fish crow perches on the terrace below me tastes the sea watches the morning fog far from her nest she cries for the birds she loves calls out to others gathered in isolation Gentle chirps Not a shriek, but a song...
by Richie Smith | Apr 8, 2020 | Covid-19
I try to envision this entire scenario, the scenario of the pandemic as something much lighter, like a short scene from a comic book. It’s a short, light read. Something not even entertaining, and when we are finished, we can tear it up, and throw it out in a...
by Richie Smith | Apr 3, 2020 | Covid-19, Poetry
The lone ranger wears a mask. He came out of retirement, put aside his silver sneaker gym membership. Instead of riding a horse named Silver, he has silver at his temples, his thinning hair covered by a surgical shower cap. He has wire-rimmed glasses and a square jaw...
by Richie Smith | Mar 31, 2020 | Dreams
I follow my wife into the city streets I have to keep my distance I assume because I’m ill. I watch her walking through the village downtown as if she’s comfortable in a new neighborhood, as if she already lives there. I follow her through the village...
