Wednesday, December 2, 2020

"9 Years" By Christopher Cadra

Slobbering drunk on Knob Creek. 
It tastes like wood and grass, like
broken glass. There’s a smokiness
about everything about it. It’s aged
nine years. It took this stuff almost
a decade to reach me. I know
what it did with its time. 
What’d I do with mine?

Christopher Cadra is a writer and poet. He's been published in the Cimarron Review, Danse Macabre, and elsewhere. He's published criticism in Basalt and a journal he edited, The Literati Quarterly. He's currently a senior editor at Gleam, which focuses on a new form of poetry he helped create with collaborators. His first chapbook, Golden Halo, was released in 2020.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Drunk Haze by George Gad Economou

swilling down bourbon till the very end of memories,  stumbling my way out of the barroom engirdled by fancy dinner-goers in a bar not for d...