I admire the tradition of the warrior poet, one who is strong, capable in combat, and operates with honor, but who also appreciates art and poetry. It’s about being human.
The sweet fetid carrion pile spreads its legs up and outon the shoulder of the interstate…
I scurry about, stop to sniff
the dollop of peanut butter
centered in the trap under the deck…
Read On
Under his bushy brows
in his deep, dark eyes,
a black fire smouldered…
Matt Beeson 