Author Archives: Stephen Futterer

“In reality, my art is a free confession, an attempt to clarify to myself my own relation to life.” edvard munch

A dead rat don’t move Unless you do its moving. But let that steely stink Of rat-rot drag itself back Into the darkest cracks of your Jelly-roll mind folds, It will turn trapped, Attack, and claw your dreams Wide-wide awake. —- Mortimer X This is part of an experiment in poetry wherein I try toContinue reading ““Rat Patrol””

When ancient scrolls are bleached anew, The paste set low to boil, Their wisdom wafts above our land In clouds as black as oil. When sooted plaques enclot the stacks And flags on masts have furled, The skirling winds that switch and roll Will coil then clap the world.