John Yamrus

nobody

knows the last time is the last time until it is.  

the hurt

was worse than anything he could have imagined, but he didn’t want to dull it, so he put aside the glass... walked out in…

i’ve been shit on…

this time by a bird whose aim was more direct, on target and effective than any of the critics who dislike me, my poems,…

Leda was a dancer.

i think it was 1969 and we were sitting on the floor in the front room of her house, playing records on the stereo.…

He asked me

he asked me

my

poems are not meant to impress you. they are written to help me make it thru the night.