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    The Heirs Apparent and Not Apparent
    John Grey
    • Dec 13, 2018
    • 1 min

    The Heirs Apparent and Not Apparent

    The Heirs Apparent and Not Apparent The house is about to be divided. "Why wait until I die," says his wife. She figures his stuff would be better off in the hands of those who could find some use for it. And she was never one for shrines. His shaving gear goes in the trash but his fishing rod, the one he hasn't used in years. is bequeathed to an outdoorsy nephew. His tool kit quickly becomes a focal point for grabbing hands. She is pleased to hear people say that his chainsa
    2 views0 comments
    Get the Message
    John Grey
    • Jun 12, 2018
    • 1 min

    Get the Message

    Get the Message I must resist the singer's message. Young girls, virgins some of them, hanging out backstage, just waiting for his hands on their soft flesh, the crush of his sweaty body. And the alcohol of course, stacked up on the bar, one for each pang, for each night of misery. Not forgetting the shotgun blast through lover's heart, the pistol against temple, the motor blitz down ocean road at ninety miles an hour. I can tap my feet to the beat, even hum the melody. But m
    6 views0 comments
    John Grey: Two Poems
    John Grey
    • Jan 28, 2018
    • 1 min

    John Grey: Two Poems

    Taking a Moment Out From Perfection to Tell You This Early fall evening, full moon slowly ascending that invisible arc over the lake. I'm sitting on the porch, accompanied by nothing but bodiless sounds and the gentle lapping of water. I'm alone but pleased with a self drawing close to its true nature, a breath for every gust of wind. a heart-beat cased in shadow, thoughts pared down to the good in them. The chirp of crickets provides rhythm to the various lilting solos of mi
    17 views0 comments
    John Grey: two poems
    Nadia Giordana
    • Aug 8, 2017
    • 2 min

    John Grey: two poems

    Word Flow In wet, miserable March, wind whisks paper to my door, from shopping lists to letters to signs announcing Flea Markets. I must confess when it comes to what blows into my realm, only money and words attract me. I've been drawn to a half rain-soaked school girl essay and a note once pinned to a door that read, "Back in five minutes. Make sure the cat doesn't escape." As much as I've written in my life, I've never once put down those words in that particular order. No
    11 views0 comments
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