“Purgatory” by Carolyn Martin

can’t be much worse than this: sitting in the second row while the poet– featured tonight for reasons only the emcee knows–fumbles through a notebook for the next offering he’ll serve up in a voice that hovers somewhere between pseudo-humility and arrogance as he alludes to obscure Italian history and no one has a clue so I’m free to tune out everything but my mind … Continue reading “Purgatory” by Carolyn Martin