Poetry. The winds from a nuclear blast fuse together a random array of body parts to create a shambling, formless, yet self-aware being who haunts the past, present, and future of a burnt-out, post-nu
Poetry. "Steck's 'wild lit up cocoon' of a poem cruises interior expanses of 'this geo-asshole world.' I is always a profligate brood of aliens sailing forth on a data sea, synthesizing feeling in the
