feel it all the way to the bottom,
let it scald like a menopausal hot flash, sober and clean and steam-burn intense, the moment is held
from the horse-rustler's noose, in the arc of Poe's blade unflinching near
Keith Nunes lives in rural Bay of Plenty (New Zealand) with a retinue of crackpots. His obtuse and melodramatic poems have been published widely Down Under. He's a former newspaper sub-editor but has been granted divine forgiveness. Tormented by depression, anxiety and a string of addictions, he has now found a safe haven - physically, psychologically and creatively. He often has great days.