Poetry
Promethean Lit Mag
What lips my lips have kissed, or not, and why

The wants of a teen girl were Eden’s fruit,
I kissed them in my head, confessed the sin

What lips my lips have kissed, or not, and why
Poetry
Promethean Lit Mag
Thank you so much!

I walk out 191st station
to a coffee cup’s steady jangle.
As jazz fades in my ear, 
I’m greeted by a smile 
inside an ash grey beard.

Thank you so much!
Poetry
Promethean Lit Mag
Lemon Squeezy

Uh oh, I’m getting sad again.

Lemon Squeezy
Poetry
Promethean Lit Mag
American Sycamore

Birds arrive, already folded. Spring
is hung on the tallest tree. 

American Sycamore
Poetry
Promethean Lit Mag
Rodentary Reststyle

when lights go out i make like mice

Rodentary Reststyle

Max Pearson