Tag Archives: Andrea DeAngelis

steamed milk

A., the atypical drifter laughs at my nervous tick-tick habit which consists of drinking steamed milk in a posh cafe served by a gruppy waitress proudly displaying the plantar warts clustered all over her meaty palms as she pours cellophane … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Disclaimer

Don’t assume these poems are about me they may be easily about people I know or wish to or never want to know at all they may be about the sky when I’m thick with the insides of my apartment … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment