what’s left
of the houses is
in children’s
crayon drawings
on brittle construction
paper still
buttoned down
by magnets
to unhinged refriger-
ator doors
By Charles Springer
The Tea Cup Hills steam up, the mist swirling above endless green. I walk the quiet trails forever thinking of the bodies piling up in ...
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Charles Springer is a painter, having lived much of his life in Philadelphia and currently living on the family homestead in northcentral Pennsylvania. He has been writing for over twenty years and has enjoyed publishing in Apalachee Review, Boxcar Poetry Review, The Cincinnati Review, Cold Mountain Review, Faultline, Great Stream Review, Heliotrope and Licking River Review, among others. Some of his new poems have or will appear in Oak Bend Review, Café Review and Pemmican.
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