Poems from Tom Fulton

Magnificent, her ebb defines the wind. A soul triumphant marches through the black, And day is peace because of who she is, And night is...
I argue with my friends inside my head In hopes they’ll bring me peace when I am dead. The trophies they don’t have don’t make me more – We...
All that we are is a skull without purpose All that we know is we are who we were. All we can do in this world without pursose Is show...
Air
The contingencies we cling to burst as the wind rushes like the recently discarded inhibitions that are swept away with it
No body to receive the energy I seek to leave Abrasive, abrasive Confusion follows me No body to perceive the thoughts that captivate my...

Pages