My soul is an unruly wasteland,which is to say that it’s always in trouble,always digging through the wreckage, always searching for greener pastures,unsatisfied, hungry, desperately reachingfor a mirage ofcool, clear water. A Note on Today’s Poem: The assignment from Napowrimo today was to write an alter-ego poem. I passed on that particular prompt in favor ofContinue reading “#412: A Poem from Taylor Mali’s Metaphor Dice on April 8, 2022”