All Hallows Eve of Old Spirits

As we enjoy the last of trick-o-treat, Greg Powell offers a poem of Hallows Eve

The old spirit’s loose in the land Unrestrained, never contained Like long ago but Stretched into a hate like fire In marrow of bone. Buried Under blood nourished soil For so long, forgotten, condemned Thriving in the underground Waiting for spark to flame vengeance On pale face motherfuckers everywhere Because no one is innocent no No one is exempt from […]

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