The crows pick at the waste on the asphalt.The men push jingling shopping carts. Or stand and mimic lifein a prison yard. The wild white swan is dead. Where I caughttrout as a child, no trout swim now
Russell Thornton has the rare ability to be both keenly observant of the minute details of his environment and intensely introspective. His poetry is full of startling images that will stay with you l
